


An Aura of Colored Sprinkles

by walking_tornado



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Animal Traits, Dragons, Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Prostitution, Violence, Werewolves, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_tornado/pseuds/walking_tornado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared, part-time hooker and demon-fighting wizard, spends most of his nights either entertaining clients or hunting the increasing number of demons that roam the city. Some nights he does both. After successfully ridding the streets of yet another demon, Jared uses his abilities to rescue actor Jensen Ackles from certain death. He promptly gets roped into becoming Jensen's bodyguard by Jensen's surly werewolf best friend. Jensen's ignorance of Jared's new responsibility doesn't make the job any easier, nor does the secret Jensen is keeping: werewolves are one thing, but dragons aren't even supposed to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Aura of Colored Sprinkles

#####  Wizard 

"How much?" 

Jared turned with careful casualness to find that the broad-shouldered man had walked past Chad and now appraised Jared with an air of entitlement that made the small hairs on the back of Jared's neck stand up. The man didn't spare a glance for Chad who had stopped in the middle of telling Jared a story to lean back against the concrete half-wall. Chad had thrust out his hips to display himself to his best advantage and he made a face as the balding man walked past. Jared pursed his lips together, aiming for sexy to avoid outright laughter. 

He'd had a long night, his jaw ached, and his ass was sore. Tomorrow, maybe, Jared would take time to relax in the warmth and relative safety of the men's shelter. The days were still warm, but the chill at night reminded him that he needed to find a more permanent solution for winter. The doors at the shelter opened in the evening at six, and the beds usually were all full within fifteen minutes. With the shelter's "No stay; no sleep" policy, Jared was forced to remain within the shelter walls on nights that he wanted a bed. It didn't happen often; he couldn't _not_ work. Jared had expenses, ones that he had put off, that needed to be dealt with. Tonight, he refused to leave the alley without another fifty dollars. 

Jared watched Chad school his features as a car pulled up across the street. The person inside was too shadowed to make out, but the car was familiar, and Chad shot Jared a grin as he sauntered across the street. Dammit, Jared thought, then took a couple seconds to appraise the man who still stood before him. Jared let his sight blur ever so slightly, and while the man's features became indistinct, his outline became more solid, until the john was surrounded by a jagged outline of yellowish brown. Peanut brittle. Jared hated peanut brittle. He hated its texture and how it stuck in his teeth. He hated how it had once burnt to the bottom of the pan when he'd been too distracted by his parents' fighting to pay it any mind. He hated how his father had shouted at him because he had ruined the batch and it wouldn't be sellable. Later, he hated the silence when his father should have been shouting at him but was probably relaxing somewhere tropical with his new girlfriend. 

"Well?" the man asked impatiently. "How much for a fuck?" Jared was aware that, as he read the man's aura, his unfocused, shifting stare gave the appearance he was high. 

A disgusting aura of peanut brittle meant this john, while not inherently a bad guy, was not someone Jared wanted to know. Jared flashed him a fake smile. 

"Sorry, I have an appointment with someone in a few minutes." A glimpse at the half-hidden folded bills, which the annoyed man slipped back into his pocket, made Jared reconsider. "But for forty, we can slip over to that alley and I can give you the best blow-job you've ever had." He seriously needed the money since his second job—more important but sadly not lucrative—took up most of his nights. He could put up with peanut brittle for the time it would take to get the guy off. 

That particular alley saw a reasonable amount of traffic from the few street workers that still hung around, and its proximity to a local flophouse ensured its share of wandering addicts. Littered with needles, discarded condoms and other refuse, it was often the safest place to take a new trick. Everyone pretended not to see anything that happened there, and only a few would step up to help should it be needed, but the lack of complete privacy could be a good—or a better than nothing—deterrent to violence. 

"Thirty," the man countered. It was better than nothing, and, combined with the rest he had saved, should be enough to cover the items he needed to buy. 

Jared nodded. "Payment up front." 

"Whatever," the john said, and they walked off towards the alley. 

Five minutes later Jared's nose touched the man's pubic hair as he swallowed around the man's cock. Jared was always thankful for the rubber; he vastly preferred the taste of latex to that of semen. Chad had ribbed him mercilessly when he'd revealed that one night as they chatted to pass the time on a quiet rainy night. Sure, he was gay, but it didn't mean he couldn't dislike the taste, did it? He'd grown used to it, of course and no longer balked at swallowing (that brief phase as a newbie hadn't lasted long), but he didn't enjoy it, and thought it unlikely that he ever would. 

The man gripped his hair too tight, fucking into Jared's mouth, hitting the back of his throat, past Jared's long-gone gag reflex. Jared knew he had made the right call by not offering anything more than a blow-job. This one was trouble. 

The john let out a groan and shoved in and held there until Jared's eyes watered. With his vision blurred, Jared still saw a shadow move from the corner of his eye. It could have been nothing, a figment of his imagination or perhaps a dog, except the charred hair stench was a dead give-away. This thing was no dog. It was a demon. The john, oblivious to the danger, released into the condom in spastic jerks that allowed Jared quick inhales of air, and Jared prepared himself for the coming fight. 

Jared wondered what form it had, this demon. Popular culture would have it that demons held human shape and were indistinguishable from real humans, but Jared had yet to encounter a demon that was anything other than obviously alien: in its color (black and shimmering), in its joint structure (rarely symmetrical or well-designed), and in its behavior (for most people, 'going for the throat' was only an expression). He'd heard of other, more experienced, and more capable demons, but those seemed not to hang around dark alleyways at night looking for a quick fix to sate their hunger. 

Now finished, the man pushed Jared roughly away. Jared let himself fall back, while keeping an eye on the shadows. Though he could have held his ground, years of conditioning prevented it. A slouch to de-emphasize his height, a downward gaze to seem biddable . . . At nineteen, he wasn't a kid; he had come into the game too late for those looking for youth, and the market in this city for tall lanky young adults wasn’t large. 

"You suck at this," Chad had told him, "and not in the good way. Seriously, you're going to starve. You need to find something else." But this was it. He'd resigned himself to it, after repeated tries at other forms of employment and some memorable firings. His off-hours street job simply offered a flexibility that he hadn't found anywhere else. He just wished it paid better. 

"Thanks, kid," the john said, and the trapping of politeness was marred by his sneer and tone. The john turned to walk away while still tucking himself in, leaving Jared sprawled in the alley. Jared picked himself up and glanced around warily. He couldn't see where the demon had gone, but the smell was stronger now. Not having Jared's particular gift, the john noticed nothing amiss. 

A flash of dark movement made Jared react. He immediately began one of a handful of quick incantations that he had memorized over the years. As he finished the muttering he threw his arm forward pointing in the creature's direction with an extended forefinger. Sure, tradition held that a wizard should have a wand to help with concentration and all that crap, but wands broke, were lost, were damn hard to explain to nervous first-time clients, and, most importantly, were an expense he could do without. His sudden movement startled the john, who still tugged at his caught zipper. The man fell backwards against the wall. Jared ignored him and followed his arm motion with a step forward, which incidentally jostled the man out of the way. The man, his hands still fumbling at his pants, tripped and fell to the ground with a curse. 

Jared's energy bolt missed the creature's center, but did hit its back leg. Barely visible in the murky shadows, it let out a nails-on-chalkboard screech as its back limb severed, which temporarily broke its momentum. It immediately spun around and attacked its severed limb, crunching through the bones. 

Not a hellhound, which was good 'cause those were a bitch to kill, just a demon—a small one, probably new. It had assumed a strangely asymmetrical dog-like shape. Of all the things he had hunted, Jared preferred these newly arrived demons. They were slower and they had a weak grasp of physical properties, which made their shapes inefficient and awkward. They were also much more predictable than those who had more experience: these baby demons wanted to feed, first on the flesh and then on the soul. And they wanted little else. 

Jared's eyes never left the shape that so easily blended into the shadows, so he missed the fist that sent him to the ground. 

"Bad move, you fucking whore," the john said. "You thought what? Roll me and take my wallet?" 

Jared shook his head, looking from his attacker to the corner where the creature had taken its grisly prize to finish eating. 

"I didn't d—" Jared didn't finish before the man had pulled him up by his t-shirt and delivered a punch to the gut. Jared gasped for air. His concentration broken, Jared was no longer attuned to the auras that allowed him to see the demon. Shit! He tried to center himself again. 

The man spat on him, shoved him against the wall and delivered another punch to his stomach. The man leaned closer to Jared, and his sour breath smelled of beer. Jared was unsurprised to find the man turned on by the violence. Peanut brittle. "You're gonna wish. . . ." 

The dark shape that jumped from the shadows to seize the man's leg was an expected surprise. 

The man cried out as he was dragged down. The beast's armor-plated tail whipped around Jared's ribs as it passed and the blow hammered Jared into the wall. Warmth preceded the pain, and Jared realized the tail had managed to slice him, an unfortunate accident and one he had no time to assess. With a wince, he turned to face the creature and focused energy into his hands until he could almost feel sparks on the tips of his fingers. 

When the demon stopped dragging its prey, it twisted around and its oversized jaws opened wider than 180 degrees as it prepared to swallow the man's head and upper torso. _Must have given itself a double-jointed jaw_ ¸ Jared thought. With a directed stream of energy, he sent a discarded soda can careening into the beast's open jaw with the force of a bullet. It spun the demon, ass over teakettle, into the opposite wall which shook loose some chunks of crumbling bricks. It shook off the hit and came straight for Jared. 

Jared crouched, giving himself less surface area to cover. The shield incantation fell from his lips almost instinctively. It probably didn't say much for his combat skills that he needed to use it with such regularity. The odd sounds that had once stumped him now were second nature after all his practice. He said no words aloud, instead he sub-vocalized for the same effect, and he funneled all his energy into his shield. As he concentrated, the filthy alley fell away, and he lost sight of the john lying on the ground. His world became the tiny area directly surrounding him. The force of the demon's charge pushed Jared, intact shield and all, back into the wall, where there would likely be a round, Jared-sized imprint, but the demon never touched him. 

Jared reached to his ankle and grabbed his dollar-store pocketknife. He opened the largest blade and tightly squeezed both sides of the handle so it wouldn't fall apart. He stopped the litany and thrust the blade into the beast as soon as the shield vanished. He angled it upwards to pierce its heart, that little ball of energy that showed up as a hot coal to Jared's enhanced vision. When the knife snagged a bit on a bony formation, Jared knew he'd have to reconsecrate it soon: it should have gone without effort through this type of demonic creature. The bright center flared briefly before the demon collapsed. Its corporeal form melted and then evaporated into a cloud of smoke which dissipated into the air. 

He sagged down against the dented wall. A piece of loosened concrete hit him on the shoulder and prompted him to move. He hurried over to the unconscious man on the ground. Blood poured freely from the ragged punctures, and the blood had already soaked through the man's clothes. Pursing his mouth, and half-wishing to give into his desire to leave the peanut brittle asshole to bleed to death, Jared bent down and held onto the man's leg with both hands. 

Jared wasn't a healer. Healers were something different, and Jared had no idea how they did their thing. But the human body had its own system of healing, one that required time and energy. Jared had no clue how to fix the wounds, but time and energy he could do something about. Before his eyes, the blood stopped flowing, the punctures scabbed over. He withdrew his hands when there were only the faintest traces of the wounds that the demon had inflicted. The guy might not even remember the incident, or he might dismiss it as a bad dream. 

Jared stood up when the unconscious man moaned. Time to leave. As Jared stood up, he grimaced at the flare of pain along his right side and stomach. He dripped blood as he left the alley. 

* * *

Jared thumped three times on the back door of the Triangle, and as soon as it opened he could hear the strumming of guitars, mixed with the sounds of fiddles and flutes. 

"Jared?" Gen held the door open for him, and then scrunched her nose up at the stench as he walked past. "What are you doing here? My shift's not over yet." 

"Got my stuff?" Jared asked as he slipped past her without answering. Gen seemed concerned but grabbed a battered canvas backpack from under a counter and handed it over. 

"Jared?' 

"I'm good, Gen. Just a rough night. Nothing too serious," he added when she looked alarmed. "Some scratches and stuff." 

"So? Fix it," she said. She rubbed at her arm, where not even a scar remained to mark the spot where her bones had once been visible. Poltergeists were nasty. 

"Can't," he said, though he really wished it were that simple. "Maybe real healers can, but I'm just a wizard. I mean, I could only throw energy at it. But my energy's already mine . . . it would be like a battery that's been shorted." And the more he tried, the more he would burn himself out, possibly fatally. He didn't tell her that part. "Can I use your washroom to clean up?" 

"Employee's one is out of order tonight; you'll have to use the main one downstairs. I put aside a plate of food for you before we closed the kitchen. Sorry Jared, I've really gotta finish these glasses first—bar's getting low; we're swamped tonight and we're short-staffed." 

"Thanks. Tom around?" 

"Helping out at the lower bar. Just . . . be discreet, okay? I need this job." 

With his hand tucked inside his jacket, Jared made his way past the bar, nodding at the bar back who heavily set down a box of beer. She leaned against the counter and her eyes widened when she saw Jared. 

"Jared? Shit, don't let Tom see you!" 

"Yeah Kim. . . . Listen, I'm not really here. Just stopped in for a minute, so if maybe you could not tell—" 

"Saw nothing," Kim assured him with a conspiratorial smile. Jared wished he had been able to hold his job here longer than a few nights. His coworkers had been great. If only management . . . it didn't matter. He gave Kim a friendly shoulder bump and wove his way through the crowd, maintaining pressure on the gash that still bled. 

He made his way down the flight of stairs to the customer's washrooms. He thought he heard someone calling his name as he walked by, which wasn't good. He didn't know many people who would be here tonight, and those he did would know better than to announce his presence. No one should see him in this state, smelling of demon, with bloody clothes. He walked past the long line for the women's washroom and entered the men's. He went directly into a stall and leaned back against the door as soon as it closed behind him. 

Jared perched on edge of the toilet seat. His large bony frame in the small space was awkward and his knees butted the door when he sat—probably a good thing since the latch seemed to be barely holding on. The stall was miniscule, in management's efforts to save space, and it stank to high heaven. The walls had peeling wallpaper and one of the overhead fluorescent lights flickered continually. Much as Jared wished that the wet floor was the result of a recent mopping, he held out faint hope that that was the case. The washrooms were too few for the weekend crowds, and when the bar was short-staffed, like tonight, something had to give. 

Jared huffed out two gulping breaths to steel himself against the pain before slowly, steadily inching up his black t-shirt. The dried blood caught the fabric and pulled at the gash. He winced and clenched his teeth. With the t-shirt rucked up and held by his chin, he noted that the wound wasn't as bad as he feared, though it most certainly needed stitches. He pulled the shirt off, and he fished through his backpack to find some Steri-Strips and Betadine. Only three strips remained so he added "swiping more" to his mental to-do list. 

He poured on a generous amount of the antiseptic solution, catching the excess with his shirt, then pinched closed the gash and taped it. He felt shaky by the time he had finished, and he placed his head between his knees, letting a whimper escape as the motion pulled at the wound. He stuffed the black cotton shirt, soaked with blood and antiseptic, into his bag and pulled out a hooded sweatshirt. He paused before putting it on, looked at his yellow, orange and red mottled torso, and decided to wash up first. 

A banging on the stall door sent the door reverberating into his knee and he winced as it hit against the bruises already there. 

"Jared! Jared! That you?" Someone banged on the stall again. Though he had slid the lock home, from the way both sides of the lock dangled and jiggled, he figured someone had already forced it in at some point. 

"Just got here," Jared said. "Wait a fucking minute!" 

"Get your ass out here, Jared! I thought it was clear: you're not welcome." The door rattled again, and Jared's only relief was that he knew Tom wouldn't intentionally damage his own property. 

"I'm leaving, Tom," Jared said. "Just have to take a shit. You mind?" 

"Hell, yeah, I mind," Tom replied. "You know how much damage you caused? Five _thousand_ dollars. Swear to God, if you were good for it I'd sue your ass off. Useless fuckin' bum! Get the hell out of my pub!" 

"Tom!" Jared heard Kim's voice outside the washroom. "I know he's your friend and all but Mike's been cut off and now he's refusing to leave. . . ." 

Jared heard a string of curses and the stomp of Tom's stylish steel-toed boots as he left. Jared thought the dampers on top of the door should have prevented the slam. He winced. His brief stint at the Triangle was the last time he had tried to get a real job, and he hadn't been back inside in the months since. He usually just defied the "No Loitering" sign in the back alley to wait for Genevieve to finish work. 

Time to leave. He waited until it was mostly quiet, but for the vibrations of the music that he could feel through the floor, then he opened his stall. 

The washroom was thankfully empty. Working quickly, he rinsed his torso as best he could, washed the blood off his hands, and lathered his face and arms with the soap provided. The demon blood spatter had dissipated at the same time as the demon's body, but it always left behind a hard-to-remove stench. He did his best to get most of it off his skin. Putting on the sweatshirt took patience to avoid needlessly pulling his wound and he was relieved when it was done. As people entered and left, he received a number of strange looks during his ablutions, which he ignored. At this time of night, few people would be sober enough to care about his behavior or to complain to management. And management couldn't hate him any more than they already did. 

A glance at himself in the mirror prompted him to bend over and try to wet as much of his hair as he could. Demon residue would have vanished, so it was probably dried semen. Sex and violence: his life. His shoulders sagged and he bent, careful of his injury, to run water over his head again. A shove from behind sent his head painfully into the tap, and he whirled around. Droplets of flung water showered the walls. 

"What the hell?" Jared said, and was confronted by an unsteady pair of green eyes. 

"Oh, shit. Sorry, man." The guy took another step away, out of Jared's personal space, but in the cramped quarters he ended up backing into the long-haired fellow behind him who threw up his hands to steady the man. 

"Watch it, Jen." The voice was low and had a hint of a drawl. "Sorry 'bout my friend," the guy continued with a friendly laugh, looking at Jared over the green-eyed man's shoulder. "Boy never could hold his liquor." 

The green eyes continued to stare at him, and Jared wiped away the drops of water that dripped from his sopping hair. Still the man stared, his pupils dilated, and Jared could tell his breath had shortened. He didn't have to be a professional to see the signs. And damn the guy was hot. But experience had taught him that working the local bars in this town was a recipe for trouble. People had trouble with the whole payment for services rendered idea when they expected to score and get it for free, especially when they were drunk. To say nothing about what Tom would do should he come back to find Jared still there and working. 

Jared took a handful of paper towels and ineffectually tried to dry some of his hair. Paper towels in bars and restaurants had peculiar water repellant properties, Jared thought, and tossed the useless paper into the garbage as he gave up. The man still stared, propped up by his shorter friend, but Jared ignored them and gathered his things. 

"God, he's pretty," said the drunk—Jared thought it a strange sentiment coming from the hottest guy he'd ever seen—and the man reached out a hand to touch Jared's cheek. Coordination was lacking and it was more of a slap than anything else. 

Jared looked behind the man to see his friend grimace and try to steer the man away. "Look," the friend said, "he don't mean nothing by it. Just a really happy drunk, is all." And Jared realized that the guy was worried about Jared taking offense at the come-on. In another life he'd have blushed and stammered, but now he caught himself wondering how much the guy was carrying and if it would cover a decent night's sleep in a motel, with a shower. Jared couldn't help a laugh. _When things get too hard_ , his mom had said, looking into his scared eyes with a sad smile as she brushed overgrown hair from his face, _you get the choice to laugh or cry. Don't cry._

He was still laughing when the pair stumbled out of the washroom. 

He had gotten himself together by the time he slipped back into the kitchen to find Gen. She looked at him strangely, but said nothing. She was one of the few who know some of what he did in his off hours. 

Not long after he had first arrived in the city, Jared had helped lay the spirit of her uncle to rest (which sounded so much better than telling her that he dug up and burned the remains). Since then Gen had made a point of providing Jared with any edible leftovers that the restaurant would otherwise throw out. He counted her one of his few friends, and she had even gone out on a limb and gotten him a job as a busboy at the Triangle. Of course, that hadn't worked out too well, but he could hardly be blamed for a hellhound on the prowl. 

"Here you are," she smiled brightly. "Food's cold—sorry. The special tonight was linguini with an amazing clam sauce that you'll love." 

"I love you," he said with a hug. She laughed and scrunched up her nose. "Ugh, you need a real shower, Jay. What did you do tonight? Never mind," she continued quickly, "don't want to know. Oh, and I added a chef's salad, some extra mini broiled potatoes, and one of Chef's prime ribs that was accidentally prepared well instead of rare." 

"Kripke must have been pissed off," Jared said, and he lifted the corner of the takeout container to peek inside. His stomach rumbled. It looked and smelled amazing, as he knew it would. Chef was known for his volatile moods and his refusal to stick to a regular pub menu. No nachos or potato skins would ever come out of his kitchen. 

"Oh god. I'm sure you could hear him for miles," Gen said, with a shake of her head, "screaming at the wait staff. I hate this job." 

Jared grimaced in sympathy, and then gave her a grateful smile. "It looks delicious. Thanks!" 

"Nah, don't mention it. Tomorrow's special is going to be leg of lamb stuffed with arugula and . . . just trust me, you'll swear you've gone to heaven. Chef's an ass, but he can cook. Just wait outside, okay, so Tom won't notice you? I've got another half-hour." 

Jared smiled, and nodded. He had finished almost half of the meal when she walked out and gave him a happy wave. This was the best part of his day: chatting with Gen when he walked her home after her shift. For that little slice of the day, he got to pretend that he was part of the normal life that everyone else lived. Even if it was midnight and most everyone else was asleep. 

The walk took them about a forty minutes. As they approached her apartment, Jared saw that there were still lights on her corner of the second floor, 

"Your roommates are home," he said. 

"Yeah. Lauren said something about having some friends come by. Wanna come up?" Gen said when she had unlocked the door. He declined her offer, as usual. She shared a place with three others, and he had the impression that his presence caused tension. He would save the favors for when the weather became colder; he was fine outside for now. 

"Later then. Take care of yourself, Jared." She gave a little wave and Jared waited to make sure that the door had latched properly behind her before continuing on his way. He still had an errand to run. 

* * *

Jared walked up to the door of a tidy little bungalow. Much as he would love to sit for a bit on the comfortable porch swing, it was imperative that this be done. But then he needed sleep. He nearly tripped on a sand shovel that seemed to have escaped a child's sandbox. Beside the door, a hand-painted plaque spelled out "Dinwiddie's Apothecary" in faded daisy-chained flowers. It had taken a bit of time to get here from Gen's apartment, but there was no better place for the sorts of specialized items he needed, and the owner worked elsewhere during the day. He knocked, and in the silence of the early morning, it seemed especially loud, but it paled compared to the cacophony of barking that followed. He could tell the owner's progress by the succession of lights that came on. 

"What the hell do you—Jared?" 

"Hey. Sorry about the hour. I just. . . ." He shrugged. Traci Dinwiddie blinked at him, then rubbed at her eyes and stepped aside. Her dogs took this as permission to start up the barking again and they rushed to greet Jared. 

"Yeah, okay, come on in," she said. "Shhh! Quiet you. Hunting again, huh? Let them smell you, _they_ won't bite. Friendliest guard dogs ever. Might just take them a bit longer to figure out who it is beneath all the demon smell." 

"And you? Will you bite?" Jared smiled, starting their usual harmless flirting. 

"Oh, honey, the things I'd do to you if I was actually awake," she smirked. She walked into the kitchen, while pulling her unruly hair into a rough ponytail. Jared hated to think what sort of sight he made. He craned his neck to see as she began to prep the Kronig. 

"An upgrade?" 

"Hell yeah. Gift from my sister. Damn sight faster that that old piece of crap coffeemaker." Once she had fixed a cup for herself she beckoned to Jared and he passed over the travel mug that was clipped to his backpack with an old carabineer. She handed it back to him, full, and continued. "Okay, spill." 

"Demon trouble. More than usual. Young ones. I mean, I kill them—or send them back or whatever happens when they're not here—but I know some must slip by me." 

"Got it. What do you need?" 

"I have a scrying spell from my old mentor, specific to demon portals. I've gotta find where they're coming from. But the ingredients I need . . . not exactly regular grocery store stuff." 

"Never are, Sweetcheeks. Give it here." Jared handed over the list and she whistled. "Shit, you're not kidding . . . this'll be pricey. I do have most of this but. . . . " 

"I know. Wasn't expecting a freebie." Jared handed her a wad of bills. Most of them had been scrunched and folded, but he'd made an effort to straighten them out. 

She smiled sadly as she accepted them, but Jared understood. With a child to support and a recently dead husband, she wasn't in a position to discount anything, and he had no intention of making her feel bad about it. 

"It'll take me some time to get it all together," she said, "but I should have it by this evening." 

* * *

After leaving Dinwiddie's, it took Jared another hour to walk to his usual resting spot. By the time he arrived, the sun was peeking out above the horizon, and it looked to be a beautiful sunny day. 

The small park he entered was crisscrossed by a set of trails, some that led through denser wooded areas and some that led a circuitous path through grassy clearings to the more heavily used areas. A skateboard park and a water fountain could be found on the interior of the circuit, and—in a particularly bad design—a moderately busy street ran through the center of the park, separating the skate park from the common area, where groups met up to play various sports. Jared found his usual tree, on the edge of the wooded trail, beside a small memorial statue. Jared didn't know who the old guy was supposed to be, and he really didn't care. No one came here, the grass had grown over the statue's base, and Jared suspected that even the groundskeepers had forgotten it existed. He remained near enough the trails that he could be near people, but far enough away that he would not intrude on them if they didn't want to talk with the strange homeless guy. 

He let himself stretch out beside the statue, but gently so as not to pull at the Steri-stripped gash. He took out his water bottle and his container of leftovers. As he finished the meal Gen had prepared, he scanned his surroundings, checking auras with his othersight. No demons that he could see. 

Jared could see auras around anything if he concentrated hard enough. Even non-living objects always reflected the auras of the things that happened in their vicinity. Jared interpreted the aura of people as . . . well, as pastries, candies, and other food dishes. It invariably sounded stupid anytime Jared had tried to explain it. In part, Jared thought, it was tied up in past experience. Living above his parents' unique little café, where his father's confections complemented his mother's baked goods, his childhood was intrinsically tied to the sights and smells of food. 

Satisfied that there was nothing dangerous in his immediate surroundings, he closed his eyes and let himself drift off. 

* * *

"Come. Ellie! Dammit! Ellie, come!" 

Jared's eyes popped open at the shouting and he blinked against the brightness of the sun overhead. His vision cleared in time to see a man running towards him, looking off at a point somewhere past Jared. Jared twisted around to see a dark shape up ahead, and in a blink he engaged his othersight, remembering last night's attack. It would be highly irregular to find a young demon out at midday. They would have fed last night—he shuddered to think about it, but he simply couldn't be everywhere—and would have taken refuge somewhere dark. They held no fear of the sun, but they did seem to find it unpleasant. At this distance he couldn't see its aura clearly, though it was obviously no demon. It looked like some kind of Arctic dog, even though its aura seemed too intense to be an animal. Strange. 

"Dammit, Ellie! Get back here!" The man was dressed in running shorts and his t-shirt was damp with sweat. He sported dark sunglasses and carried a leash from which dangled a collar. Jared smiled. His neighbor's dog used to get out of his collar all the time, too. Jared fastened his eyes to the man's muscled thighs. Mmm, nice, he mused. Jared could appreciate quality. Once, he would have felt the stirrings of desire as he watched the man run by, but he had lost the enthusiasm for sex once he was expected to put out several times a night. Sure, it wasn't the same, but still. 

"Ellie!" the man yelled again. "El—" In mid-cry, the man saw Jared and started. Now distracted, the man tripped on a half-buried tree root and, with windmilling arms, fell face first onto the ground. Jared let a snicker escape. He couldn't help it; it reminded him of the slapstick comedies he used to love. 

"Hey, you okay?" Jared had half-risen to go help the guy, but the movement caused a stab of pain from his injured side, and the man had already begun to pick himself up. "Didn't mean to scare you," Jared continued as the guy bent to retrieve his sunglasses. 

"Nah, it's okay," the man said, and he turned green eyes to face Jared. Hot pub guy . . . who looked much more sober than the last time they'd met, and who didn't seem to recognize him. Jared saw a trace of pity as the man took in Jared's sneakers patched with duct tape and the shabby torn clothes. "Didn't expect to see anyone here," pub guy continued. "My dog ran off . . . Shit! There he is. Sorry, gotta go." 

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Jared said, but the man had already started running, a bit slower than before as he kept a closer eye out for obstacles. 

Jared felt as though he could not physically tear his eyes away, and as the man got further away, Jared rose from his resting spot to follow him. He had rarely ever felt a connection like that, a . . . something, a familiarity—but not. 

Pub guy broke from the forest path and continued away from Jared along the sidewalk. He had caught sight of his dog again. It had crossed the street bisecting the park and was now running in the clearing on the other side, near the ball fields. Tapping the leash in his hand again this thigh, the man waited as the traffic slowed for the crosswalk, and then he sprinted into the intersection. 

A pounding beat thudded out over the fields as a high-end sports car, packed with teens, tried to pass the stopped line of vehicles by swerving into the parking lane. Jared saw the car accelerate, and noted that it couldn't see the runner behind the cars in front of it. Pub guy finally tore his eyes away from his dog and turned. His eyes widened, and brakes squealed as the driver tried, too late, to prevent the collision. In a fraction of a second more, with the car's bumper a couple feet from the man's knees, everything froze. 

The mosquito that had been buzzing around Jared remained motionless a few inches above Jared's shoulder. Two pigeons in their tag-like mating ritual hung suspended in mid-flight. The little girl on her skateboard, swaddled in protective gear by her father who jogged along-side, was caught at the apex of an eye roll, and her father's words of caution had halted as he became an open-mouthed statue. A drop of bird shit hung in the air, well above the trees, and it looked set to land on the sidewalk up ahead, if it didn't it a branch first. 

In this frozen snapshot only Jared moved, and the only sounds to be heard were Jared's incantation. The syllables tumbling from his lips were Phoenician, from an incantation he'd stumbled across when he still had time to study and people to study with. His Phoenician pronunciation needed work, and as Jared stood up and hurried over to the imminent accident, the tableau shifted, rippled, and a discordant groaning sound emerged from all around. The bird shit dropped a slow inch further. The car advanced a finger length closer towards him. 

Jared concentrated on the words, on remembering how they should flow off his tongue, and willed their meaning out into the world. _"Lazy!" his teacher had told him, before she'd been victim of a organized elder demon attack. "Focus! Mispronunciation is a lack of effort, a lack of concentration! You can use all of these," she had waved her hand to encompass her small room, filled to the ceiling with books and notebooks, "if you focus."_ She had been wrong, though, and he had never had the chance to look through her lifetime's collection of arcane lore. The day after her death, her nephew had come by and packed everything up, other than the few volumes Jared had taken home to study. The whole lot was auctioned off and the house sold. Jared had never found another teacher, and, three months after that, he had been evicted and he stopped looking. 

The movement of the world stopped again. Jared reached the man and began to move him out of the way. It required effort, as the world's inertia resisted his efforts to effect any changes, but it was possible. Instead of trying to drag him, Jared opted to lift him, about a foot off the ground, and pull him by snagging a hand around his bent elbow. Why fight with friction when he didn't have to? The inertia problem was certainly difficult enough. 

Jared, ever-chanting the finicky jumble of sounds, moved the man's body, and the scene flickered and shifted in spurts, like streaming video with an abominably slow connection. The girl had almost finished her eye roll; the pigeon had completed a turn. The car's bumper was now even to where the man had once stood. As Jared gave a final tug to clear the man's feet from its path, he tripped and fell to the ground, and his incantation was broken. 

With a disorienting lurch, the world returned to normal speed again. The pigeons landed, puffed, preened and danced around each other, none the wiser about his interference. The bird shit hit the tree branches, which splattered it into tiny bits that rained down to the sidewalk below. The father brushed off his cheek in annoyance as he finished his unnecessary warnings to his daughter. 

The green-eyed dog walker, freed from immobility, fell towards the ground and onto Jared. As Jared heard the car screech to a stop, the man's shoulder forced all the air from Jared's lungs and Jared's head struck the curbside hard enough that the world went dark for a while. 

"Shit, man, you're bleeding!" 

Jared regained consciousness to the sound of a pleasant deep voice. "Holy mother of—you saved my life. Guy, hey, wake up," the voice continued. 

Jared's blurred vision finally cleared enough to show him concerned green eyes looking down at him. 

"Hey! Oh, thank god you're awake!" the guy said. Jared groaned and raised a hand towards the back of his head. And then he realized that the man was now shirtless and holding the balled-up shirt to Jared's head as a bandage. "Oh, hey now," the man continued. "Easy. You hit your head pretty good." 

Jared groaned again and closed his eyes as the sound reverberated in his ears. Concussion, he thought. Maybe. It had happened before. And like before, his world was now painted in an array of shifting Technicolor with one hell of a strange palette. Along with the phenomenal headache and focusing problems that accompanied concussions, Jared's particular symptoms also included problems disengaging the othersight. Usually he had to work to see auras—not a lot, just more of a conscious decision to do so— but now, with his head all shaken, auras were turning off and on without effort, and without need. 

He blinked again and looked around. Shit, even the pavement had fuzzy edges that glowed: pavement auras, as usual, showed up to him as a bland gravy base, mostly cornstarch, salt and water, before the trimmings were added. In the jumble of images, he did not see the car, though he had seen the skid marks. A couple people slowed to look at what had happened but no one else stopped. He closed his eyes and lay back down. His flickering othersight made his head hurt. 

"Can you sit up?" the pub guy asked. Jared said nothing, but he sat up, keeping his eyes shut. 

"I'm okay," Jared told the man. "Just a bit dizzy." 

He blinked repeatedly but it had little effect, and in the flickering of the world's auras, he saw the man next to him. Cake sprinkles in all hues danced around him, and some of them sparkled like colored sugar. Jared continued to stare up at the man, entranced. He had never seen an aura quite like that, and while he would have liked to study it further, the continual shifting had brought on a headache, on top of the one already present from the fall. Then the othersight faded, and he refocused on the man's extended hand as he offered Jared a hand up. Jared took his hand, solid and warm, and rose on shaky legs. The shirtless man ducked under Jared's arm to support him until he was steadier. 

"Come on," the man urged, as he helped Jared take a couple steps. "I think we need to get you to a doctor." 

"No!" Jared said. "No doctor. I'm fine." The last doctor he'd seen had tried to hold him for a psychological evaluation. Jared knew that focusing in and out like that made him look unhinged, but he couldn't help it. Pub guy, thankfully, seemed to have attributed it to the head injury. Jared kept his head down and focused on his own hand. His body remained solid and unchanging; it was impossible to see one's own aura. 

The guy hesitated, and then said. "Listen, I'm an actor. We have a medic on site. At least let him take a look at you." 

Jared nodded after a moment. Pub guy assisted Jared a few steps more when he was nearly knocked down again. Only the man's arm kept him upright as a hard furry body tried to interpose itself between them. 

"There you are! Bad!" pub guy said sternly. 

"Beautiful dog," Jared said, blinking to get his vision to clear. "What's his name?" 

"Ellie." 

Jared realized he should have known that. He watched as Ellie's ears flattened. He did not imagine the low rumbling growl that emanated from the animal. 

"Doesn't seem to like her name," Jared observed. 

"His name," he said, "And yeah, he never did. I lost a bet with my buddy, Aldis, and he got to pick the name. So Ellie it is." 

Much as he loved animals, Jared didn't dare venture a pat. He got the distinct feeling that while Ellie put up with pats and ear-scratching from his master, Jared ran the very real risk of being bitten should he try the same. He contented himself with glancing at the dog's aura. It was interesting: a dark flowing chocolate. Based on that, he and Ellie should be getting along. Then his erratic othersight flickered and he became disoriented again. 

"I'm Jensen," pub guy said. 

"Hey, Jensen. Jared." Jared forced a smile as he turned away from the dog, and willed his vision to settle on one thing or the other. 

"I gotta get back to the set," Jensen said as he slipped on Ellie's collar. Jared had to laugh at the unimpressed teenager look on the dog's face. 

"Set?" Jared asked. 

"Actor, remember?" The green eyes were observing him closely again. 

"Yeah, right. The medic." 

"Come on." Jensen and wrapped the leash around one hand while supporting Jared with the other. Jared thought that he probably could manage on his own, but this wasn't exactly a hardship, and he missed simple, unobligated, human touch. 

"An actor . . . anything I've seen?" 

Jensen shrugged. "Nah, probably not. Still waiting for my big break, you know." 

Jared looked down at himself, at his worn jeans with the dried stains of something or other that showed up really well on this sunlit day, and quirked his lip. "Oh, I know." 

"And you? Rescue people for a living, do you?" Jensen asked. Jared thought the other man's smile should have won him some kind of award. 

"No. I'm . . ." Jared had never figured out a good way out of that question: 'Demon-hunter' never resulted in friendships; 'wizard' only appealed to children and the Harry Potter crowd who would expect him to fly around on broomsticks; 'unemployed' made people think of a homeless bum—which he was, according to Tom, but saying so didn't usually result in long-term conversations, though he occasionally was given money; and hooker . . . well, that might result in money too, but this guy didn't seem the type. "I guess I do a bit of everything." 

* * *

"Thanks again. For the life-saving and all," Jensen said as they walked. Jensen had moved Ellie to walk on the outside but the dog continued to shoulder its way between them, keeping a wary eye on Jared. On their walk back they had chatted, first about dog training, to Ellie's apparent disgust from the way he looked at Jared, before they moved on to other topics. For two people with little in common, they seemed to click quite well. 

"My trailer's right over there." The street was taped off and a flurry of people and equipment was moving around the sidewalk. 

"We're on location for a couple days." 

Jensen's trailer was one of several that occupied the length of the street. A security guard waved traffic around the orange cones towards the detour, but relatively little traffic bothered this street, even during the height of the day. Jared hadn't recognized him, but Jensen seemed well enough known to have his own small crowd of gawkers. 

Jensen's trailer was awesome. DVDs lay haphazardly on top of his gaming system, and though Jared hadn't played for a number of years, he thought it was probably the newest thing on the market. 

His head still throbbed but the vertigo from the shifting auras had gone away. His othersense had stopped working during the walk back with Jensen, bringing both relief and worry. He'd come to rely on that instant assessment of people and felt disarmed without it. It had happened once before, when he had exhausted himself, but this time Jared suspected it was due to the head injury, minor though it might be. The cut had mostly stopped bleeding, and while his head might look like a mess of blood-clotted hair, he felt Jensen was overreacting. 

"Hey Jared, wait here a moment, I'll go get the medic." 

""Nah, don't bother. I'm feeling better," Jared said, "so you don't have to—" 

""Well, I'll feel a lot better once Matt takes a look at you. Hang tight. Back soon," Jensen said suddenly and darted back out before Jared could object. Instead of trotting off to follow his master, as Jared would have expected, Ellie sat still, watching him, and moved not a muscle. Jared remembered the intense chocolate around the animal. 

"I'm not sure what you are," Jared told the dog (and refused to feel silly for it), "but you're not a dog, and not a demon. Not sure where that leaves you." He returned the dog's flat stare, and they were still staring at each other when Jensen returned. Neither broke the stare until Jensen's laugh snapped them out of it. 

"Sorry, Jared, but you'll never win, not with Ellie." Jensen gave him a fond pat. "Most taciturn dog you'll ever meet." 

"Maybe he just doesn't like you," Jared offered, and Ellie gave two thwacks of his tail as he turned reproachful eye on Jensen, who wasn't paying attention. 

"Matt is off on break, and they said the designated alternate first aid person is our cameraman, who had an afternoon of training a few years ago. Honestly, if I were you, and not under threat of death, I'd just wait a bit until Matt gets back," Jensen said, and Jared nodded. Jensen shifted uneasily as he said, "Are you really okay? You can tell me if you're not . . ." 

"Jensen, I'm good. Had worse than this horsing around with my buddies." 

"Yeah? Thing is . . . I'm sorry about this. It's just that my break's done and I've gotta get back to work. But you're welcome to hang around the set!" " 

"Thanks, Jensen," Jared said. "But I should get going and leave you to do your thing." 

"No, come on, at least stay a bit longer. Matt's got a message to come by as soon as he's back, and I only have a short bit to film today. I'd love for you to stay." Jensen seemed a bit surprised by his own insistence and shrugged with a little embarrassed smile. Jared wondered if Jensen felt the same pull that Jared had. Jensen waved to the impressive gaming system. "Play some games while I'm out. Use my shower to clean up, if you want," Jensen said and Jared blushed. Not once had Jensen made any mention of his body odor, but Jared knew very well what he must smell like to the other man. "And at lunch they bring sandwiches and stuff around, and they're pretty good." Jared's grin widened; it all sounded wonderful. It had been a few years since he'd been able just to relax and play video games with a friend. His mother's sickness and then losing the house had taken away all those simple pleasures. _One day_ , he thought. _I'll just take this one day to forget about everything, all the crap out there, and just relax_. 

"Sounds great!" Jared said, and was rewarded with Jensen's matching grin. 

"Excellent. Ellie will be happy to have company," Jensen said. Privately, Jared doubted that, and a glance at the dog's baleful stare reinforced his opinion. Jensen grabbed a brown leather jacket from the back of a chair. "Gotta go. I'll challenge you to anything you want to play when I get back. Can probably rustle up a couple beers, too." 

"Thanks! Can you switch mine to a Coke though? I don't drink." 

Jensen seemed startled, and then nodded knowingly. "That's cool, man. My uncle had a drinking problem, too. Two Cokes it is." 

"No," Jared began, but Jensen left before he could finish. It grated on what little pride Jared had left to let Jensen believe that he fell into the homeless drunk stereotype. Then he sighed and let it pass. It didn't really matter what this guy—however gorgeous and awesome he was—thought. It was only one day. And it wasn't like Jared could explain how alcohol made him unable to use his abilities. He'd only needed one encounter with a young demon after an evening of underage drinking with high school friends to resolve never to do it again. He'd been damn lucky no one had been killed. Trying to explain that to Jensen . . . well, he'd rather the man think him a reformed alcoholic than a dangerously unstable lunatic. He still didn't know what his friends remembered from that night, but it had been the last time he'd seen most of them. Jared had never bothered to correct any misconceptions they might have had. His mother had taken a turn for the worse a short time later, and then it hadn't mattered much; nothing much had for a while. 

With Jensen gone, Jared wandered into the small bathroom and looked in the mirror at the gash from last night. His exertions to save Jensen had made it bleed some more, but the strips still held. In the quiet of the trailer, he stripped off his clothes. He rummaged around until he found a plastic bag, some scissors, and tape. With a piece of plastic taped over the cut, he entered the shower. It was small and cramped and he banged his elbows a half dozen times while he scrubbed. When he exited the shower in a waft of steam, he smelled like a strawberry explosion. He left his clothes in a heap in the floor to go rifle through his pack for something clean. 

The naked man leaning against the wall, watching him as he exited the washroom, came as a shock.

* * *

Jared let out a startled squeak and had whispered the first few words of a stasis spell until he realized that the newcomer had made no aggressive move towards him. Jared let the words trail off, though he maintained focus to hold the power ready. 

"So, I hear your name's Jared," the naked man said, and Jared thought he seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place him, and his lack of clothes was distracting. The man's wavy brown hair was longer than Jared's and reached past his shoulders. Jared towered over him by at least a foot, but the stocky build and the confidence with which the man held himself made Jared suspect that he might last only a handful of seconds in a fight with the guy, unless he used magic. From the unfriendly stare, Jared thought confrontation was a very real possibility. 

"Matt?" Jared asked, though he couldn't fathom why the medic—or anyone—would be visiting Jensen's trailer naked. And then he did think of a couple ideas, but they didn't really mesh with the picture he had formed of Jensen. Then again, Jensen was essentially a stranger, colored sparkles notwithstanding. "I, uh, didn't hear you come in," Jared continued when the man didn't answer. Jared looked around for Ellie. The dog didn't like him, but it was a good bet that maybe he didn't like anyone other than his master. He saw no sign of the dog, and Jared figured the threatening naked guy had let him out. He had a fleeting thought that Jensen would be upset if Ellie ran off again. Then, in a flash of recognition, Jared placed the man. 

"You're the friend. In the pub. The washroom," Jared said. The guy's mouth turn upwards into a smirk, and Jared had the feeling that the man enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable. 

"Chris." 

Jared waited, but no more seemed forthcoming and the guy seemed disinclined to move. "Okay, well, Jensen's not here. . . He didn't mention anything about you . . ." 

Chris's smile widened. He walked over to grab an apple from fruit bowl and took a bite. "No? Must have slipped his mind. I'm here all the time." 

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Chris did seem as if he belonged. And Jared didn't. 

"Listen, I'm going to get dressed now, so . . . " 

"I'll wait. We have a couple things to discuss." 

"Right," Jared said. The man didn't move, even as Jared walked past him in the tight quarters of the trailer. Jared's towel-covered thighs brushed up against the man and Jared didn't miss the flash of interest. Maybe this wouldn't be a day off after all. He could use the money. Jared didn't bother going to the bathroom again to change, and simply dropped his towel and began to pull on some clothing, well aware of the man's scrutiny. 

"Jensen said that it was okay, that is, for me to be here." Jared had no reason to explain himself to this guy. But the man affected an air of belonging in the space that Jared couldn't hope to match. 

"Mmhmm, don't let me be in the way of . . . whatever you're doing." The smirk had never left but the guy wandered over to the kitchenette to make some coffee, snagging a newspaper from the counter as he did so and turning his back on Jared. Jared's eyes were drawn to the firm ass and the muscles that moved with each step. Jared half-suspected that the guy was flexing his ass muscles on purpose while he flipped to the entertainment section of the paper. 

Okay, awkward. He longed to read the man's aura, and without the familiar comfort of being able to read a stranger, Jared couldn't relax. He tried though. This was Jensen's friend. Jared had been going to skip the video games, in deference to his sore head, but after a minute of standing around with nothing to do or say, Jared caved and selected a game, just to have something to do with his hands. His game character died unusually soon since he was unable to concentrate on anything but the silent presence behind him. Jared's fingers tingled with the unreleased energy he had readied when he first saw Chris, and he wasn't ready to let it dissipate yet. The man felt like danger and stood between Jared and the door. 

"So," Chris said out of the blue, just as Jared started a new game. Jared jumped. The gathered energy he held melted the remote controller; an electric sizzle could be heard from his clenched hand as he tried to keep from smiting the man. He glared at Chris who appeared not to notice. 

"How, exactly, did you save Jensen?" Chris asked. Before Jared opened his mouth to ask how the hell Chris could know that, Chris added, "It's all over the set. Some guy came back with Jensen, bleeding. Stuff like that gets out." 

"I just moved him out of the way," Jared said, as he simultaneously picked up the second controller and slipped the ruined one in between the couch cushions. 

Chris stared at him, as if trying to decide something, and then nodded. "Okay, here's the thing," Chris drawled, and sat on nearby chair, stretching out his legs, and not wavering in his stare. "I lied. Sort of," Chris continued. "I’m sure it is all over the set—bunch of gossiping grannies— but I was there. I saw." 

"What? No you weren't!" 

"I was there," Chris reiterated, "a ways away, but I saw it. Jen was going to be hit by that car." His tone held no doubt. "And, like that," he snapped his fingers, "the next second he crashed to the ground on top of you. But _you_ had been nowhere near him." 

"I was there, you must have missed me." 

"No. I didn't. And you're going to explain how that happened." 

"I have no idea what you saw," maintained Jared, "but I was there, and I just happened to get Jensen out of the way." 

"I think you have power of some sort. I think you did something." 

Jared started and stared at the other man. This wasn't a routine guess—it was never any normal person's guess—and Jared could tell that Chris had put it out there, not as a question, but as a statement. Huh. 

"Maybe," Jared said under his breath but Chris seemed to have heard it; his smile became smug. 

"Thought so." 

"You. . . Most people don't make guesses like that." Jared was about to ask Chris what he knew of Jared's world when he heard Jensen's voice outside the trailer. 

"I'll be watching you," Chris's smug smile never wavered, but it also now held a trace of warning. He stood up and . . . shimmered. The disorienting image made Jared blink and squint, trying to clear his vision of conflicting images, when suddenly the edges cleared and standing before him was Ellie, the dog—no, the wolf, Jared thought, as he stood there, open-mouthed, staring at the animal who ran to the door to greet Jensen. 

"Hey," Jensen said, and nudged Ellie away with his leg when the wolf raised his snout to sniff at the plates he carried. "Jared, I wasn't—Ellie! No begging—sure what you liked so I got a bit of everything." He walked set down two loaded plates on the table. "You okay? He take a look at that head yet?" 

Jared realized that he was staring and forced himself to blink and look away. 

"Um, no. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. And no, the medic didn't come around." Much as Jared wanted to ask about Chris, Jensen hadn't mentioned him at all. Jared chose to say nothing; he'd learned the value of silence. 

"Hmph, if he hasn't come around after we've eaten, I'll go round him up. Well dig in. You'll need the energy. I have a challenge to win!" Jensen smiled and set up two TV trays for their plates, and then he took a forkful of food before bouncing down onto the sofa. 

Challenge. Shit. Jared threw a guilty glance to the remote control that stuck out from the cushions. His handprint had been preserved in the now re-hardened plastic. He had no way to explain that, not without giving away his secret—he glanced sideways at Ellie again, but the wolf was lolling happily at Jensen's feet, sticking his nose in the air in hopes of a morsel of dropped food. As Jensen set up the gaming options, Jared reached down and grabbed the wireless controller. Hiding it behind his body, he casually walked over to his backpack slide it inside. 

Jensen stood up. "Nature call," he announced with a little shrug, and he gave Ellie a pat in passing as he went into the little bathroom. "You can select the course." 

"You're a werewolf," Jared whispered as soon as he heard the snick of the lock. Jared didn't see the shift, but suddenly Chris was there. 

"No shit." 

Jared worried that Chris didn’t seem to be forming a very good impression of him. But then again, as the first werewolf that Jared had encountered, Jared thought that Chris might not be the best representation of his people either. Jared had heard of werewolves of course, everyone had, but he'd never met one. Few of them ever left the Midwest, and those that lived there were notoriously insular. 

"Why the pose?" Of all the questions that sprung to Jared's mind, about the extent of his powers or about werewolf customs, this was the most currently relevant. 

"Bodyguard," Chris said. He peered through the shades, looking for Jensen. "So what are you?" Chris asked, and he fixed him with a hard glare. "I can smell the magic on you." 

Jared turned his palms outward, maintaining his best "What?! Helpless me?!" act as he centered himself and began gathering energy for a defensive strike. There were many things out there that could sense his abilities, and he'd found that a great many of those things wanted to eat him. 

"You're going to want to stop whatever it is that you're doing, boy. Rrright now." The growl sounded strange coming from a human throat, and Jared would swear that he saw Chris's ears flatten backward in warning. "I can _feel_ you." 

"I'm just here 'cause Jensen invited me." Oh great, now he sounded like a vampire (which, thankfully, were completely fictional). " _And_ he offered free food. I'm not really in a position to say no to that." 

Chris gave him an obvious once-over before he pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. 

"So what does Jensen need a bodyguard for? He never said anything about it, and he treats you like a regular dog . . . wait. Doesn't he know?" Jared asked. Chris's glare seemed to be a multipurpose one. In this case it conveyed "None of your fucking business!" without him having to waste words. Maybe Jared needed to perfect an angry stare too, he thought. It might come in handy in his trade, especially if his mouth were otherwise occupied. 

"The only reason you are still in one piece is that you did save Jensen. That gives you some leeway. But not much. The _only_ reason I shifted is to let you know that I know what you are. And I will stop you if you go after Jensen. So. Cards down. You know about me, I know about you. I will hunt you down and tear you into tiny, bloody shreds if you _think_ about hurting him in any way." Chris shut his mouth with finality, and Jared got the impression that that was an abnormally long speech for the man. 

"Hurting? Wha—no! I don't . . ." Chris's last warning had thrown Jared for a loop, because he'd honestly thought Chris had been talking about the hooker thing, with the whole 'I know what you are' bit. Jared turned as Jensen came out of the little washroom. Jensen gave a little embarrassed smile and reached into the cupboard under the sink from where he took a can of aerosol spray. He pointed the can into the bathroom, turned his head away and held the spray for several seconds. Soon the sickly perfumy smell of —Jared glanced at the can as Jensen replaced it back in the cupboard—"Spring Daisies" filled the trailer. Jared coughed a little. 

Chris had shifted back into his wolf form. He sidled up to Jared, and leaned against his leg. 

"Looks like you two have bonded." 

Jared smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah," he said, "I like animals. Um , thanks Jensen, but I have to get back home." 

"Now? We never got in that game. Come on, I was going to kick your ass! Don't wuss out." 

Jared's reply was a noncommittal "hmm," as Jensen sat down and took another bite of his lunch. He waved to the plate he's brought for Jared, and Jared sat down. He couldn't let it go to waste. 

"Hey, I met your bodyguard," Jared said, affecting the most casual air he could. Ellie chose that moment to stretch, and his claws made a scratching sound against the carpet as he stretched out his back legs, one at a time. 

"Bodyguard?" Jensen looked at him with a puzzled frown. 

"Yeah. Chris?" 

There was no mistaking the warning growl as the werewolf brushed up against him and stuck his nose in Jared's crotch. Jared could feel the vibrations in his balls. Ellie's meaning was clear: no discussion of the werewolf bodyguard. 

"Yeah, I got it!" Jared whispered under his breath as Jensen's puzzlement turned to a bray of laughter. 

"Aw hell, Chris is in town? Damn. Sorry I missed him, I'll have to give him a call," Jensen said, and he laughed again. "Bodyguard!? Yeah, he can be a bit much. Didn't scare you, did he?" 

"Yeah, no, not really." 

"Don't let Chris get to you. He's a great guy; like a brother. And he talks big, but it's harmless and he means well." 

Jensen went on talking about how he met Chris in university and all the fun they'd had. Looking into Ellie's glare, Jared didn't believe Jensen's assessment of his friend's harmlessness. Especially with Ellie's teeth so close to his livelihood.

* * *

#####  Werewolf

"Yes!" crowed Jensen, finishing with a flourish, and brandishing his controller high in the air. "I rule!" 

"Barely, and it's your game, so there's no way I should have even been close! One more day of practice and you'll be worshiping at my feet!" Jared said, laughing. Jensen's dog lay an arm's length away, staring. Always staring. Jensen hadn't seemed to notice the missing game controller, though he'd looked attentively at the table and studied Jared closely. 

"So," Jared had said as they played. "Where did you get your dog?" He hadn't mistaken Ellie's warning growl. 

"My friend Aldis picked him up. Said he was a stray that was going to be put down, and asked me to take him in." Jensen scratched Ellie's head and around his ears and Ellie pushed his head into Jensen's hand. "Couldn't have that, now could we?" he cooed to the dog. Jared smiled until Ellie noticed and glared at him. "What breed?" Jared asked. Jensen continued to talk as he walked to the trailer's mini-fridge to pull out two more soft drinks. 

"Dunno. Aldis didn't either. Must be part Husky or Shepherd. A mix of some sort," Jensen said. "A mutt, I guess—I don't really know dogs." Jared quirked a smile at the wolf who bared his teeth. "Beautiful, eh?" Jensen continued and Jared agreed. Personality aside, Ellie was beautiful. 

"Seems a bit temperamental," Jared said. 

Jensen laughed. "He's a bit particular. Doesn't seem to care much for people in general, and doesn't care much to be petted, but he's pretty good with me. He doesn't like being cooped up in the trailer, though. The regular directors are used to him, and they let him wait around on set and look around." Jensen sighed and ruffled Ellie's fur again. "But the guest director for this episode won't have him on set. Ellie doesn't seem to care much for the man either." Jared studied Jensen as he spoke and detected no subterfuge. Jensen seemed to honestly have no idea what Ellie truly was. 

"Listen, Jensen, thanks for everything," Jared said. "It's been great." An understatement if Jared had ever made one. Today had been the most relaxed Jared had been in the past few years. Careless and carefree for a day had been an excellent plan, Jared thought. But it was now time to return to reality. "I have to get home." 

"Yeah, sure," Jensen said. Jared thought he read reluctance, but decided it was his own wishful thinking. It hadn't taken Jared long to realize that in other circumstances, in another life, he and Jensen could have been great friends. Jensen was an interesting mixture of serious and playful, and Jared had spent more time than he should have staring at the man. Jared was very good at telling who might be interested paying for services and Jensen, he thought, wouldn't take much convincing. Jared enjoyed both knowing that and choosing not act on it. The complete break from the normal routine was refreshing and needed. 

"I'll give you a ride back," Jensen said. 

"No, don't go out of your way . . ." 

"No trouble. I'm heading out now anyway. Just don't criticize my taste in music, okay?" 

Though Jared knew he should decline the offer, he found himself sliding onto the leather seat of Jensen's fast little car. Jensen told him what make and model it was as he waited for Ellie to hop in the back and make himself comfortable. Jared pretended to be suitably impressed, but truthfully, Jared knew little about cars and cared less. An old clunker or top of the line model: they were equally beyond his means. Jared just enjoyed the ride and used the opportunity to stare at Jensen, who he'd probably never meet again. Different circles. He thought he was adequately surreptitious, but Jensen caught him mid-stare a couple times. He wondered what the other man thought. 

"So, some directions, other than 'that way, towards the East side,' would be useful right about now," Jensen said, with another sideways glance at Jared. 

"Just drop me off there, on the corner, by the lights," Jared said. "You can make an easy right to get back onto the highway." 

"No, man," Jensen insisted. "It's starting to rain. Not going to let you get soaked. Besides, I owe you. Where to?" 

Jared drummed his fingers on his thigh. His supplies should be waiting for him at Dinwiddie's by now, and she'd intimated that they'd be heavy, so the car would be convenient. 

"Do you mind making a stop first?" Jared asked. 

"No, not at all." 

"Okay, keep going and I'll tell you where to turn." 

Jared had only rarely come to Dinwiddie's in the daytime, and he smiled to hear the screech of children's voices in the backyard. Traci must have heard the car drive up, because she walked up to him with a knowing little smirk and an arched brow. 

"Jared! You brought me a present!" she said with a playful leer at Jensen, and Jared was amused to see Jensen's blush. 

"Ma'am," Jensen said. Traci looked at Jared and her smile grew, if that were possible. 

"Mmm, listen to that. All that pretty and polite, too!" she said, before she gestured for Jared to follow and then disappeared into the house. 

"Be right back?" Jared hadn't intended it to be a question. Jensen smiled, stretched himself out in his car, and adjusted his sunglasses before he tucked his hands behind his head and gave Jared an imperious little wave of his hand. Actors, Jared thought, and he walked into the house with a smile of his face. 

Traci had already set out a box on her kitchen table when he went inside. 

"Does he know about all this?" she said. Jared shook his head and she leaned back and yelled to Jensen out the open window. "Just be a moment, lover, I'll get him back to you soon." 

"We're not—" 

"Don't destroy my vicarious pleasure. I need something to get me through the nights." Jared coughed out a laugh and focused as she went through the warnings for each and every ingredient. She spoke fast, as if Jared really should already know what she was telling him, and he forgot most of it as soon as it was said. 

"Okay, where to?" Jensen said when Jared slid back into the car with his box. 

"Straight," Jared said, and brought his thumb to his mouth to worry at a hangnail. He didn't want Jensen to take him home. 

After many more blocks and an assortment of turns, Jared couldn't stand the charade. It was not like Jensen hadn't already seen him sleeping in the park. 

"Stop here," Jared said. "Here's great. Thanks so much for the ride." 

"Jared," Jensen said. "I'm not dropping you off in the middle of an intersection in an area known for gang violence." 

Jared shrugged. He could have told Jensen that the gang violence was primarily the work of a handful of mid-level demons riling the young and insecure mini-gangs. He was hoping to fix it someday, but unfortunately his magical ability did precious little against real bullets he didn't see coming. For now the gang-demons would stay; Jared couldn't tackle them on his own. He could, however, prevent any more from showing up. 

The car stopped, and Jensen looked at him with hesitation. 

"Thanks again, Jensen," Jared said, to forestall any of Jensen's concern and to let the man leave faster. He was way too easy a target for this place. Ellie, who had been quiet this whole ride, lying stretched out on the back seat, was now visibly on alert. 

"Jared!" Jensen called, as Jared went to close the door. Jared stopped and peered in, crouching down. 

"Yeah?" 

"You need anything?" Jensen said, awkward, and Jared saw him look around for something to give Jared. "Place to crash? Job? Money?" As he said it, Jensen reached back for his wallet, intent on finding something that would help. 

"No, it's fine. Hope the rest of your shoot goes well. Thanks again, Jensen." Jared ignored the proffered money and shut the door. He glanced around. Jared couldn't expect to arrive here in a car like that and remain below radar. And while Jared knew that Jensen's offer of both the ride and the money had been well-intentioned, he knew exactly what it looked like to the people watching. He only hoped that it looked more like prostitution and less like a drug deal. On might lead to a beating, but the other would be death. He straightened his shoulders and forced himself to his full height as he walked away from Jensen. If he was going to be the center of attention, he didn’t want to appear to be an easy target. Let everyone thing twice about messing with him. 

Once Jensen's car disappeared from sight, Jared shifted his belongings to get a better grip. At the first opportunity, he ducked into an unoccupied alley. Walking around with a box was not only an invitation to trouble but tied up his hands, so he transferred the contents of the box into his backpack and used a reinforcing spell to strengthen the frayed bits. He shouldered the heavy bag, which, among other things, now held a large, carefully wrapped crystal bowl, and began walking. 

* * *

Jared found and climbed onto the topmost landing of a deserted children's play structure. He looked around, satisfied that he was mostly out of sight and as high as he could reasonably get without climbing a tree. He found the spell he needed in a small, handwritten journal that was tucked away in his backpack, wrapped in the cheap black vinyl tablecloth that he spread out in front of him. 

Jared laid out the purchases that had cost the equivalent of three blowjobs and two fucks: one that had him bent over a washing machine in a motel's deserted laundry room, and one with him suspended from a sling and blindfolded. The latter had paid a fair bit more, and while Jared had hesitated at the request, the man had passed his othersense screening with flying colors, and the night had gone by without a hitch—or rather, with a hitch, a ball gag, and the man's female companion. 

So now he was the proud owner of a crystal bowl, a small mastodon-bone pestle, and a wide range of little plastic snack containers with labels that said things like 'dried fish intestines.' 

He mixed the ingredients together in the proper order, added a spark of power, and waited. If all went as it should, and if the dried and powdered star-nose mole snout was fresh enough, soon he would be able to sense the anchor that the demons had used to cross over. 

When he felt the first telltale tingle, he packed up his supplies and poured the contents of the crystal bowl into several of the now-empty containers. It would be needed. When the tingling intensified enough for him to gauge a general direction, he set off. 

An hour later, he used a stick to spear a discarded juice box. This is what some idiot had used as an anchor to the demon realm? He gritted his teeth, whispered the necessary counter-spell and poured the crystal bowl's leftovers over it, one snack container at a time. For good measure, he stomped on it before he tossed it into the nearest recycle bin. Kids. He'd bet anything it had been a group of kids, maybe at a slumber party, who had played at scaring themselves. He wondered how badly injured they had been. 

Now that he had gotten rid of the anchor, he should see a marked decrease in the demon activity in this part of town. Satisfied with his work, he took up his backpack, and then he frowned. Nibbling at the edges of his thoughts was the sense of a second anchor. The spell he'd cast was unspecific, and would have given him a result for anything within a certain radius, limited by the amount of power he put into it. Practically, though, portals were rare, and the likelihood of a second in such a small area was minimal. Still, he had to check it out. He took a moment to focus on the tingle, and on the direction it pulled him toward. He began walking, again. 

Jared became aware he was being followed, but he couldn't make out who was following him. Not a human: in general they weren't that stealthy. Not a young demon: they were never that patient. It could be an older demon, but Jared was no threat to them—he left that to other, more experienced demon hunters—so it made little sense for a senior demon to care. Jared continued to make his way towards the anchor, whose pull increased as he approached, but he kept alert for what trailed him. 

He became more and more apprehensive the closer he got to the anchor. He stopped at the taped off barrier of Jensen's location shoot and he bit his lip before ducking under the tape. Jared saw a security guard on his rounds and took pains to keep out of the man's line of sight. The pull of the anchor led Jared to the wardrobe trailer, and he frowned and crouched down to get a better look. The light from the streetlight wasn't enough to see the marking he searched for. Jared raised an index finger, touched the side of the trailer, and whispered a word. Sigils beneath the door jamb blazed like a flame in his othersight. While not the work of an adept, this was beyond the childish fumbling that had made a juice box into a demon portal. This was no accident.

* * *

When he rose from his crouch, one other thing stood out thanks to his accentuated vision. Against the darkness of the back parking lot, Jared saw canine-shaped melted chocolate, a deep brown that still managed to glow. The glow intensified until he had to look away. 

"Hey, Jared." Jared looked up to see Chris walking towards him, still shadowed but obviously naked. He did not seem perturbed by the rain. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Been following you," Chris said with a shrug. "I have a job offer." 

Jared blinked. He shifted out of his othersight to get a better appreciation of Chris's attributes. He tilted his head as he considered the offer. It might be a good night, and he could always sleep afterwards. 

"Sure. But it'll be extra, because of the lycanthropy, and protection all the way." 

Chris screwed up his face in confusion, then annoyance when he realized what Jared meant. 

"No! Not that!" His eyes traveled the length of Jared’s body, and his face relaxed into a small smile. "At least, not tonight." He walked past Jared to look at the carved sigils that, to his eyes, would be no more than insignificant scratches. 

"I want you to cover Jensen when I can't." Chris said. Jared thought of Chris covering Jensen, of him covering Jensen, of Jensen covering him, and his dick twitched its approval of this train of thought. Chris scrunched his nose and he rubbed at it with back of his hand. "Not what I meant. Again." He became serious. "Bodyguard. I want you as backup" 

"I . . . what?" Jared rubbed at his eyes, and wished that Chris had picked a time when he was less exhausted to mess with him. It was far too easy right now. "He's not hurting for money. It doesn't make sense. Just get him to hire someone. A real someone." 

Chris shook his head. "No. Jensen doesn't need to know what's going on. And, no," he continued as Jared opened his mouth, "we're not going to tell him.” 

"And what is going on?" Jared asked. 

"There were threats, so now I'm here. I have reason to believe it might be werewolves." 

"What reason?" 

"It's complicated. Just trust me alright?" Chris said, and Jared thought it was the most absurd thing the werewolf had said. "Anyway," Chris continued, "I can't exactly bring my suspicions to Jensen or to the authorities. It's just . . . there are some places that he can't take his 'dog' and I'm already pushing it. Jensen's not stupid. If Ellie happens to be walking with our buddy Aldis or to be in another room every time I show up . . ." 

"What? He's going to say, 'Oh, my 'dog' must be a goddamned werewolf,'" Jared said, "cause _that's_ the logical conclusion?" 

Chris pinched his lips together and took a breath before he spoke. "Listen, kid. I just need a second set of eyes—someone who knows about me—to back me up when I can't be there. And you need money. What's the problem?" 

Jared put a hand to his temple. "I'm not a bodyguard." 

"You have power and you can use it. It's better than leaving him unprotected. When you saved him today, I was off chasing the scent of someone who'd been following Jen. Lost him though." 

"Listen, Chris, Ellie, whoever you are," Jared said, and Chris's lip curled into a snarl. "The answer's no. I have a job, and I can barely keep up with it. I don't have time for another one." 

"Your job is protecting people, right? And you never know when the bad guys are coming, or who they're coming for?" When Jared nodded Chris continued. "Then I'm making your job easier. There is something around here. It's targeting Jensen. You going to ignore it to go wandering around the streets?" Chris waved at the sigils. "I don't know what that is, but you seem to. Do you think it's a coincidence that it's here when Jen's been getting threats?" 

Jared looked again at the sigils and sighed. "What do—" 

"Hey! What are you doing?" 

Jared whirled around as the security guard called out, and he winced as the man's flashlight shone in his eyes. The man only saw Jared and his canine companion since Chris had shifted again, at the man's first yell. Ellie was now sitting at his feet, with a doggy grin and his tongue lolling from his mouth. "You're not allowed here." 

Jared didn't answer. He opened his pocketknife, ignoring the man's yell, and slashed a mark straight through the sigils. 

When the security guard reached towards his belt, Ellie rushed him, snarling and flashing his teeth. The man fumbled his weapon and took off at a run. From his backpack, Jared grabbed the closest container of his leftover spell workings and, saying a few quick words, threw its contents onto the marred sigils, hoping it would be enough. Then he ran. 

His energy flagged about a block and a half away. "Fuck," he whispered, panting, as he leaned against the side of a store window. He looked around and his eyes fell to Chris who, still in wolf form, looked at him with his head tilted to the side, as if wondering what Jared was doing. Then the wolf took the hem of his shirt in his teeth and tugged him forward. 

"Get off!" Jared snapped at him. The wolf tugged again. Jared sighed. "Fine." He had nothing better to do. He followed Ellie and kept his eye out for a decent shelter from the constant drizzle that had soaked him. "Where are we going?" There was no answer. 

The wolf refused to let him rest, even when he'd found a reasonably dry and unoccupied bus shelter. He thwarted Jared's attempts to go off in a different direction, effectively herding Jared with growls and snaps. Jared was almost asleep on his feet when Ellie stopped in front of an apartment building and sat in front of the door. Jared looked at him in confusion before opening it. 

The security guard eyed him warily, and then he saw Chris. 

"Ellie! Sir, you brought him back! Let me call up, Jensen's been worried." As the man spoke to Jensen, Jared gave Chris a reproachful look, and he would swear the wolf grinned. "Sir," the guard said, "can I get your name?" After passing along the information, the guard nodded into the phone. "Yes sir, right away." He put the phone down and addressed Jared. "Take the elevator right to the top. Mr. Ackles is waiting for you." 

"What number?" 

The guard smiled. "It's the whole upper floor, sir. Mr. Ackles owns the building." 

"Huh." Jared couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just let Ellie walk him to the elevator. No matter how hard he pressed the button, the elevator didn't move. The doors opened again and the security guard stepped in. 

"I'm sorry sir. Here you go." He quickly scanned his electronic key before he pushed the button for Jared and hopped out. 

Jensen was waiting when the elevator arrived at the top floor. 

"Ellie!" He bent down and gave the wolf's head a good ruffle before looking up at Jared with a big smile. "Jared, you found him!" 

"Yeah. He showed up and led me straight here," Jared said, as Jensen ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Jared brushed up against Jensen's bare chest as he walked past, and he didn't miss the flash of interest in Jensen's eyes. 

"Thank you!" Jensen said. "I was worried. I got home after I dropped you off, and he just sort of took off." 

"No problem." Jared couldn't suppress a yawn. 

"Why don't you stay here tonight? I mean, I can drive you back or call you a cab, but it's pretty late, and I have a guest room . . ." 

"Yeah. Okay." 

"It's just a sofa-bed. I've been meaning to get an actual bed for it but . . ." 

"Jensen, it sounds great." Actually, Jared thought, it sounded wonderful. 

Though Jared's feet stuck out over the edge by at least a foot and the springs squeaked with every movement, it was the best night's sleep he'd had in a very long time. 

* * *

Jared transitioned seamlessly from asleep to awake. 

He heard movement in the kitchen and wandered in to find Jensen making eggs. Jensen still hadn't put on a shirt and he lost himself in the luxury of staring before he cleared his throat and Jensen turned around. 

"Hey, Jared!" he said with a wide grin. "Breakfast?" 

"Yeah." 

"Awesome! I was hoping you like eggs. Made way too much for one." 

While they shot the shit about nothing, Jared wondered how Chris expected him to follow Jensen around. As it happened, it wasn't the problem he thought it would be. 

"Jared, I don't want to overstep my bounds here," Jensen said, "but I couldn't help notice that you're having a rough time. Let me help, please. I want to, and I can. So let me. I can set you up with a job if you want, and a place to live." Ellie just sat in the corner and looked smug. Jensen continued, "I'm sure someone in the building has a lease I can just not renew . . .." He said it with a chuckle and Jared was pretty sure he was kidding, but Jared's stomach still dropped and he pushed his plate away, unable to finish it. 

"Yeah, okay to the job," Jared said. "But don't kick anyone out. Please." Jensen beamed. 

"Awesome! Why don't you come to the set with me and I'll talk to someone. I don't have a lot of pull, but I probably have just enough to arrange for odd jobs here and there. Ever thought about security?" 

* * *

Jared nodded at his new co-worker as he shadowed the man around the set. The guy had probably said something important, but the sheer number of people involved in this filming project had taken Jared by surprise, and dividing his attention was proving more trouble than he had expected. 

He hadn't had a chance to speak with Chris alone since he arrived at Jensen's building. And he really needed to. Jared only vaguely understood what Chris expected: protect Jensen from harm. From werewolves. Barring anyone shifting in front of him, he thought it unlikely that he would spot a werewolf, and he hadn't noticed any extra animals on set. Then there was the demon portal. Without another scrying spell, he had no way to tell whether or not the portal had been reestablished somewhere else. It was the first thing he needed to request from Chris: money for ingredients from Dinwiddie's. He'd only bought enough for the one time. 

Jared looked around again but didn't see Jensen; he only saw the crew dismantling the temporary set with ant-like efficiency. It had happened frequently during the day: losing Jensen in the mass of people milling about. He took another look with his othersight and Jensen jumped out at him, like taking a highlighter to Waldo. 

Colored sparkles, visible to Jared from anywhere on set, set Jensen immediately apart from everyone else. All around Jensen were cakes and pies of all sorts, various breads and pastries, some puddings and custards. Some were under-baked, a couple were overdone, but by and large, everything seemed normal. No one stood out as a potential killer. 

His second week of working security, Jared stood around the periphery of the lot and watched the tourists take pictures of props and of the back of people's heads. He was still in his probationary period, while they determined if he was reliable and could follow basic instructions. Given his abysmal track record at holding a job, he counted it fortunate that they had considered him at all. As luck would have it, Beaver Security had just lost an employee, and someone else had switched from a part-time day shift to the newly empty full-time night position. Even so, from a security company, Jared had expected stricter standards. 

"Hey, Jared, how're you making out?" his supervisor asked him at the end of the first week. Jared had smiled at the gruff man and withheld several sexual retorts that sprang to mind. 

"Getting the hang of things, Jim. Thanks," Jared had said, and the man had simply nodded, pulled reflexively on his ball cap, and continued on his way. Jared had watched him go, shrugged, and finished his rounds. 

Jared could see Jensen in the distance, exiting a car and gesturing animatedly as the camera was slowly pulled back to give him room to maneuver. It sounded like they were having a great time; this was the fifth time they had gone through this particular scene, even though it seemed fairly straightforward to Jared. But either Jensen or his co-star kept cracking up at a key point. 

Ellie wasn't on set today, but Chris was. Chris had shown up, waved at Jensen, said that he'd arrived last night and asked to take Ellie to pick up Aldis at the airport. 

"Chicks, man. They're all over a guy with a dog. Fifty bucks says I'll have at least four numbers when I get back." 

Jensen laughed and agreed. And then he hadn't shut up about it all day. It was "Me and Chris" this, and "In university, the three of us" that. Jared was a little jealous, and it surprised him when he realized it. When exactly had he gotten so attached? 

It turned out that Aldis was awesomely cool. 

"Thanks for doing this, Jared," Aldis said, as they sat in Jensen's living room, waiting for Jensen to clean off the last traces of make-up before he headed out with his friends for drinks. 

"How the hell do they manage to get this stuff in my ears and nose?" Jensen's voice had a bit of an echo as it drifted from the bathroom. 

"Quit your bellyaching, slacker! Move it!" Chris hollered at him. He'd been out of sorts all evening, and Jared thought it might have had to do with the difficulty of maintaining his Ellie pretense. Jared found it amusing, and he had exchanged small smirks with Aldis every time Chris left the room so that Ellie could make an appearance. 

"Chris was really taking on too much," Aldis continued, "and he needs a break, too. And there are places a dog just can't go. I tried for a bit. But Jen got suspicious 'bout why I hung around so much and my girl missed me." Jared blinked. Despite the almost tangible machismo bouncing around, he'd sort of assumed Chris and Aldis were a couple. 

"You have a girl waiting for you, too?" Jared asked Chris, who'd wandered over. 

Aldis laughed. "Waiting? My girl waits on no one: way too busy. She gets more work than I do." 

"Nope," Chris answered, "no girl." 

"Guy?" Jared flicked a glance upwards and caught Chris's smirk. 

"Nope, not one of them either." 

"You and Jensen?" Jared asked. 

"Just friends," Chris said, and shrugged. 

Aldis took pity on Jared and leaned in. "About Chris. He's not fond of labels. Finds them constraining." 

Jared nodded as if he understood. 

"Ready, slackers!" Jensen announced. 

"About time." Chris grabbed his and sunglasses, and walked to the door. 

"Hold up," Aldis said. "Jared's not ready." 

Jared, who had just grabbed the remote and leaned back, blinked at him in confusion. Chris seemed surprised as well. 

Aldis turned an imploring look to Jared. "Please. Years with the two of them, man. Don't make me do it by myself anymore." Chris smacked him on the shoulder. "See?" Aldis said. 

Jensen seemed pleased that Jared wasn't ready yet. He pointed to Chris. "Hah! I don't want to hear anything about me being the last to get ready. Not a word." Then his face fell, and he walked over to the couch, where he wouldn't be overheard by the others. "Shit! I forgot. We can go somewhere else. Doesn't have to be a bar." 

"Huh?" Jared frowned. 

"I'm such an ass. You told me about it, that first day. And I respect the no-drinking man. It's totally cool." 

"Oh! No, you misunderstood. When I said . . . I didn't mean that I'm an—I can go to a bar." 

Jensen still looked at him in concern, but Jared pulled on his shoes—not the old ones patched with duct tape, but the new pair Jensen had insisted on buying him—and walked over to join Aldis and Chris. 

"I'm set," he told them. "Lead on." 

They ended up at the Triangle. Despite Jared's attempts to talk up the other bars in the area, Jensen insisted that this one had the best atmosphere. He hoped Tom wouldn't be there—he rarely was on a Wednesday—and he hoped that, with his new clothing and a hat to hide his mop of hair, maybe he wouldn't be noticed. His shoulders sagged when the waiter took one look at him and made a bee-line for the kitchen. Gen came out moments later, wiping her hands on her apron. 

"Jared?!" she said. He smiled sheepishly and followed her to a corner when she crooked her finger. She hit him hard on the shoulder, and it hurt. 

"I thought you were dead, you insensitive jerk!" She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. "More than a week! Not a word. I . . . Jared, what happened? Even your friend didn't know where you were." 

"My friend—Gen, did you go talk to Chad?" 

"Of course I did! I was worried." 

"God, Gen, I'm so sorry." He hugged her. "I met someone. This guy, he . . . I've been staying at his place, and it's been so busy, and strange, that I just forgot." 

Her face cleared, and she craned her neck to get a better look at the people he'd been sitting with. "Which one?" she grinned. "It's like the movies . . . did he make a big declaration, like Julia Roberts?" 

"What? No! It's not . . . he's there in the middle." 

"Oooooh! He's hot! I'd forget my friends for him, too." She smiled, and with the gentle teasing, Jared knew she'd forgiven him. "Go on back. I have to work. Oh, and don't worry about Tom. He's not here." 

The night went by fast, with good company, music and beer—except that Jensen insisted on Cokes for Jared. 

* * *

The constant use of his othersight was more draining that Jared had thought it would be and he was grateful for the plentiful food available. Technically, it was not for security personnel, but Jensen had made it a point to invite Jared to his trailer while he ate, and he always brought enough for two. There had been a number of raised eyebrows when Jared began hanging around with Jensen. Though no one said anything directly, Jared had learned that Jensen rarely entertained people in his trailer, preferring to hang out in the dining area or in others' trailers. Jared had just shrugged at the comments, and soon no one mentioned it. 

Jared hadn't met anyone half as interesting as Jensen in a long time. After two weeks, Jared still found Jensen fascinating. The man had a wicked sense of humor and was, from Jared's understanding, a respected up-and-comer, but he still maintained his everyman attitude. He was honest, kind, and good. 

While he hadn't uncovered any werewolf infiltration on set, nor had his scrying spell revealed a new portal, Jared's hunting skills had nonetheless proved useful. The dark and scary monsters mostly came out at night, but there were still plenty of smaller nuisances during the day. These had been the bane of each of Jared's attempts at a normal job, when his reputation for clumsiness, inattention, and dangerous behavior forced his employer's hand. Every time. 

A wizard on the premises didn't faze the brownies or the odd gremlin here and there. They delighted in having a wizard, confined by human social rules, wandering around during the day, and they did their level best to mess with him. Unlike their depictions in stories, they only came out in the day, and remained invisible except to those with Jared's gift. Jared could not simply use his power to crush the brownie that had hitched a ride in the camera trolley, or the gremlin that had squeezed itself into Camera One. Jared had been forced to evict the gremlin playing in lighting array, for fear of a fire, but he had been hard pressed to explain his presence in the walkway after an energy surge had blown through a dozen lights thanks to the combined efforts of a gang of pixies. 

It was an unusual concentration of minor malevolences. Jared had never heard of portals for these creatures, but he thought it might be possible, and his free time was now spent thinking about possible modifications to the scrying spell. His progress was slow since spellwork and summoning had never been his strengths. 

* * *

"Jensen? Makeup, I think." 

Jared nodded his thanks and set off in the direction of makeup. He carried a plate of food, hoping to join Jensen for lunch between takes. If Jensen were in makeup, it was unlikely that he could take a break now. Jared knocked twice on the open door and waited for the okay to enter. He saw no lights on so he suspected Jensen must have already finished. He turned to go. 

The solid weight that hit him sent him into the side of the makeup trailer with enough force to make the whole thing shake. He hadn't completely recovered before a second blow sent him falling through the doorway of the open trailer. He scurried backwards until his back hit a cupboard. Jared heard the sound of something crash, but he paid it no mind. The words that slipped from his lips threw the world into stasis. He'd been getting a lot of practice with this particular incantation recently and he could use it now without much thought. To use it well, on the other hand, did require concentration, and, today, the world surrounding him jumped and slowed, but didn't stop. 

It was enough. As he picked himself off the floor, he searched for his attacker but saw nothing. Maintaining the stasis spell, Jared sought his othersight. There! The black figure showed up clearly, crouching under a shelf of wigs. It wasn't a baby demon. Not a demon at all. 

Uniformly black and shiny, it had the body of a cheetah and its head reminded Jared of a racing dog. Its lip was raised and it had crouched in preparation to attack. Controlling any hellhound, even one of these lesser firehounds, pointed to a summoner of great skill. That this firehound did not immediately go after its target, or completely revert to its natural inclination to rip all living things into tiny little shreds, indicated incomplete control and suggested a mid-level practitioner. And that knowledge did nothing to help Jared. 

The swelling of his lip from his crash into the trailer made his pronunciation worse than usual, and this particular incantation could not be subvocalised. When he stumbled over a particularly difficult phrase, time reverted to normal and the animal snarled. 

Water worked best against firehounds, and it didn't even need to be sanctified. He reached for the half-full water bottle on the counter and, in a fluid motion, twisted off the cap and flung it into the beast's face. It shook itself off, and the smell of vodka wafted over. Mentally cursing whomever had chosen that as their morning beverage, Jared leveled a simple energy blast. As expected, it only served to temporarily blind the firehound, maybe rock it back a little. Once it had absorbed the energy, it would be that much stronger. But Jared needed only long enough to reach the door and close it behind him. 

It wouldn't hold long. Firehounds may not be especially smart, compared to the demons that learned as they aged, but they were strong. He maintained his othersight in case there were more of them, but it was unlikely that the summoner could have managed more than one. 

He spotted a hydrant and ran the few yards to it. Fortunately, it was lunchtime and the food cart was on the other side of the building, so very few people were around. A couple people looked askance as he passed but mostly everyone was too busy to pay him much attention. 

Jared reached the hydrant at the same time the firehound burst through the trailer door. He stabbed it with little jabs of energy, enough to ensure that he was its main focus and that it ignored anyone else it might see. It came at Jared at incredible speed, and Jared levied his last energy blast at the hydrant before him. It shot up just as the firehound leapt, and the spray caught it directly on its belly and sent it hurtling into the air to come crashing down in a tangled heap. 

Jared thought it unlikely that it had survived, but he quickly approached in case it was just stunned. Without hesitation, he slid his pocketknife into its heart. 

* * *

"Sorry, Jared," Jim said, adjusting his blue cap emblazoned with 'Beaver Security'. "But what the hell was that? You on drugs? There's only so much we can forgive for Jensen's sake. You'll be damned lucky if no one presses charges." 

Jared sat with a torn shirt and a busted lip in addition to what would probably be a black eye. His clothes were covered in various shades of color, from blushes to lipstick, and he was still picking self-sticking eyelashes from his pants. He stunk with the evaporated residue firehound blood—just as bad as demon blood—and he had lost a shoe. Jared knew that the pout he most assuredly wore was childish, but dammit! He hated those invisible fucking creatures, and their thrice-cursed summoners. 

"Son, I expect you off the premises in fifteen." 

Jared nodded, and he limped out of the office. He had walked three blocks when Jensen pulled up beside him, with the top down in his convertible and Ellie pacing the back seat. 

"Jared," he said. "What the hell happened? They said you trashed makeup! And there was something about a fire hydrant?" He lowered his voice to whisper, "Are you okay? Did you have a relapse?" 

"I don't have an alcohol problem! Or drugs!" Jared said. "And I don't want to talk about it right now." No one had seen. No one ever saw. He knew that, to anyone non-gifted, his battle must have resembled some sort of violent fit. Jensen didn't push further, though Jared could tell he wanted to. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Jared shrugged and kicked at a stone, sending it skipping into a gutter. "I didn't really belong there anyway. I'll just go back to my old job." 

"Um, you never did tell me what you do, but Chris . . . well he's under the impression that . . ." 

"That I sell myself for sex? Yeah." Jared risked a sideways glance at Jensen. 

"But why . . . I mean what . . . ?" Jensen couldn't seem to figure out what he wanted to say. 

Jared decided to make it clearer. Swallowing against an unusual urge to vomit, he drew himself up, and took a couple sensual steps forward, leaning over the convertible's side towards Jensen. This was, after all, what he did. "Twenty for a hand job, forty for a blowjob, eighty for a fuck. Three hundred for the night and I'll do anything you want." He reached over and traced the side of Jensen's jaw with his finger. 

Jensen's eyes had grown almost comically wide and his mouth opened and closed without sound. Jared tortured himself with one last look at Jensen's aura before clamping down and letting his vision return to normal. 

"Bye, Jensen," he said, and he began walking again, a sashaying walk—may as well flaunt what he couldn't escape—and ignored the stares of the passers-by. "I'll have my stuff out of your place in an hour." 

"Wait!" Jensen ran up to Jared, leaving the car door wide open and ignoring the "door is ajar" warning. "You don't have to—" 

"Yeah, I do." 

Jensen was silent, and then he nodded. "I'll give you a ride." 

Jared considered saying no. But he still only had one shoe and, hell, he had no pride to speak of, so it didn't really matter. 

"Fine." He walked over without another word and slid into the passenger seat, ignoring the whine from the back. Jared remembered the money Jensen had tried to give him, the first day they had met, and the fleeting thought that Jensen might actually pay him for his services led to a squeezing cramp in his gut. 

* * *

Jared followed Jensen into the lobby of his apartment building, and didn't respond to the security guard's friendly greeting. Jensen hadn't said another word to him on the drive, which was out of character. Much as he told himself that it was for the best that Jensen learn the truth, Jared couldn't help the glances over to his friend and he worried at his lip as he thought about what Jensen must now think of him. He didn't often get so attached to someone in such a short time, but it was Jensen. The elevator nearly finished its journey to the top floor before Jensen said a word. 

"Jared, don't go." Jensen paused with his mouth open, and then closed it with a loud sigh before he continued. "I don't know what happened, today or . . . or at the car, but . . . anyway, just—" 

Jensen took a step out of the elevator as he spoke, but Ellie refused to budge, forcing Jensen to wait with him. Jensen looked at his dog in shock, and gave a little tug on the leash. 

"Come on El," Jensen said but Ellie refused to be moved. Ellie met Jared's eyes, and Jared engaged his othersight. Ellie suddenly bounded forward, snagging his leash from Jensen's hand. Growling, snarling, with his ears flattened back, Ellie immediately shoved past him. 

"I'll go first." Jared said, and he stepped in front of Jensen. The lack of a shoe made his gait uneven. He hadn't intended to confront a killer tonight, but it was better him than Jensen, and at lease Jared had recent battle experience. Jensen looked at the both of them as if they had lost their minds. 

Ellie bounded past him and tore through every inch of the ransacked rooms. 

The apartment was usually neat and tidy. Now every item had been disturbed, overturned, and broken. In othersight, Jared saw trace evidence of a foreign presence. A scorched effect tainted any of Jensen's possessions that the intruder had touched and clearly showed unfavorable intentions. The room stank of bread mold. 

Jared ran through his mental store of incantations, to have something on the tip of his tongue should the intruder still be there. He wished, not for the first time, that he'd had more time to study, that he had more than a mere handful at his disposal. 

Impatient, Jensen pushed his way in and then stood stock still. 

Jared stood back and watched Jensen go from item to item in his apartment. When Jensen wandered out onto his balcony, to right the overturned barbecue, Ellie walked over to an area of least disturbance and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Then he sniffed again and sneezed. Jared was hard-put not to laugh at him, but he managed. 

"What do you smell? Did werewolves do this?" Jared asked. He'd never met another who smelled auras the same way he did. Of course, werewolf abilities might work differently. Ellie didn't even look at him, only padded over to sniff at another corner. Then Ellie sneezed again and fixed Jared with a stare as he deliberately shook his head. 

"I'm going to get building security," Jensen said, walking with determination past Jared to the elevator and jabbing the button. "I pay them to keep their goddamn fucking eyes open! There's no excuse for this!" 

When the elevator doors closed again, Jared bent down to pick up a broken guitar, with a charred handprint on the neck. When he looked up, he was eye-to-dick with Chris's privates. 

"Got an extra shirt?" Chris asked. Jared sighed and went to grab some clothes. A few weeks ago, the answer would have been "No," but Jensen liked to shop, and since he didn't need any new clothing, he had happily dragged Jared to his favorite stores. Though he loudly deplored Jared's fashion choices, Jensen had been content to watch as Jared selected his first new clothes—not hand-me-downs or thrift shop finds—in years. Chris raised an eyebrow at the clothing Jared thrust at him. 

"Do I look like someone who wears shorts?" he asked. "And were you high when you got these?" 

"Listen, Shorty," Jared said. "Just take them and shut up." Both of Chris's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he gave Jared a genuine smile of approval. He nodded and pulled on the clothing. 

"What the hell were they looking for?" Chris growled to himself, as he looked at the mess around them. 

"Chris, who are they?" Jared said though gritted teeth. "What the hell do you know?" 

"I don't know anything!" Chris said. He picked up a broken plate and let it fall back down with a grimace. "Jensen never did anything to anyone. Fuck! This is all about my fam—" He cut himself off as Jensen strode into the hallway where Chris and Jared were talking. 

"Security is going to . . . Chris?" 

"Hey, Jen." 

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Jared phoned me. Just got in. For a gig. Needed a place to crash so was already on my way and . . ." 

Jensen looked at Jared with narrowed eyes, and said nothing. He turned again to Chris. "Ellie?" 

"He, uh . . . Aldis took him for a walk, so he wouldn't . . . you know," Chris waved his hands at the mess, "contaminate the crime scene or whatever." 

"Okay. What's with that?" Jensen waved at Chris's clothing. "You have a gig in Hawaii and decide play tourist?" Chris shot Jared a glare. 

"Just wanted to try something different." 

Jensen shook his head. "It's not you. You should give them to Jared." Jensen turned to Jared. "Didn't you get something kind of similar last week?" 

"Um, yeah, sort of similar, I guess. Told you it was the new style," Jared said. Jensen wasn't really listening anymore. His attention had turned to his damaged guitar. He picked it up, laid it out on the kitchen counter, turning on the light to get a better look, and muttered something about replacing the fretboard. 

Chris leaned in to Jared and whispered. "Call Aldis. Say I need him to cover." Then he followed Jensen. 

Jensen entered a furor of cleaning and righting the apartment that was only broken by occasional pacing. Scalding soapy water sat in the sink, and everything he picked up was washed and dried before Jensen put it away. Jared was pretty sure that not all of them were supposed to be washable. 

Jensen had absolutely refused to hear about Jared leaving, but, at the same time he barely spoke to Chris or Jared while he righted the apartment, and he never even asked about Ellie. Jared's mention that he had taken her to be boarded while they had worked cleaning up the bedrooms had elicited no reaction. Chris's suggestion that they all go to a hotel for the night had been rebuffed angrily. Jensen didn't want to go to the police, and building security was at a loss to explain how nothing was caught on camera. Neither the stairwell, nor the elevator, nor the lobby cameras showed anything unusual, though security was going through them again to be sure. 

"Why don't you have a camera on the top floor?" Chris asked. 

"Privacy." Jensen grimaced. "I don't want anyone poking around in my business." 

Chris nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I get it. But it would make things a lot easier now. I wonder what they were looking for, to have made that much of a mess." 

"Don't know. Nothing's stolen," Jensen said. 

Chris looked around again. Jensen hadn't even gone through a quarter of the mess. "Maybe you should take more time, go through everything—" 

"No! Nothing is missing. I would know. But someone was here, touching my things." 

"Jen, have you seen this place?" Chris tried again. "The damage alone . . . you have to report it. I imagine your insurance will cover a lot of it." 

Jensen shook his head. "I don't have insurance. The damaged stuff that can't be fixed . . . I don't want replacements; it's not the same. And I'm not reporting anything. It's none of their business." Jensen's whole body had tightened up with the frustration of trying to explain himself to people who just didn't get it. 

Jared narrowed his eyes in confusion and Chris frowned. The break-in appeared to have led to a serious increase in Jensen's protectiveness, but Jared assumed it was probably a normal reaction to the violation of his privacy. 

"If they didn't find what they wanted, will they come back?" Jared said it quietly, but it brought both of the others to a standstill. 

Chris stared intently at Jensen. "I can have people here in a half-hour, Jen. Good people. Trustworthy. Family. We'll sniff them out. No one will get anywhere near you. My brother has a stockpile of weapons that—" 

"No! I want them to come near! Very near," Jensen said, and Jared was somewhat alarmed by the fervor in his eyes. "I'll tear out their hearts and rip out their fucking throats! And—" 

"Or," Jared interjected, before either of them could continue, "we could call the police and talk to building security again. Maybe the neighbors caught something on camera." Both were silent longer than Jared liked. 

"No police," Jensen said. "I won't have them touching everything." 

"Security is already searching the footage again, but yeah, maybe the place across the street . . . it's worth a shot," Chris said. 

Jared's brief foray into sanity seemed to have broken their desire for an armed standoff or mindless slaughter, and Jared wondered whether he should push a bit more. 

"You need to look at all options," Jared said. "Did you never get hate mail or threats or anything?" Chris glared and Jared could feel the unspoken order for what it was: shut up. Jared nodded to the guest room where he had slept the past few weeks. Chris stalked into the room and Jared followed. Jensen had gone back to rewashing any unbroken dishes, deep in thought, and never noticed their retreat. 

As soon as Jared closed the door of the guest room behind him, he whirled on Chris. "You have to tell him!" 

"I can't. I can't go around telling everyone about me. There are rules." 

"Not everyone! It's threats about him! What makes you think you have the right, that _I_ have the right, to hide this?" 

"My family likes him," Chris said. 

Jared hoped his expression conveyed "So what?" and hoped it would tack on a couple expletives, while it was at it. 

"Sometime, 'bout a month ago, my grandmother got a feeling," Chris continued. 

"Feeling?" Jared tried to keep the skepticism from his voice, unsuccessfully. 

"Yeah." Chris's tone and his stance became more strident. "A feeling that something bad was going to happen." 

"A feeling? That's it? For _that_ you dragged me away to be a bodyguard?" 

"It's enough. My grandma . . . is special." 

"He knows?" 

"Jensen? About my grandma? The threat?" Chris said, but Jared shook his head. 

"About you, your pack," Jared said. 

"Family," Chris corrected. "No. And I already told you that so quit trying to make me feel guilty. I don't. It's just how things are." He looked away and Jared wondered whose words he was parroting. 

"Could it be someone trying to get to you or your family through him?" 

Chris shrugged. "It's what my dad thought. It's why he sent me here. Jensen's like family. It's been . . . hell, _years_ since the last clan feud. I mean, the stereotype's out there, everywhere, but really, we just don't do that kind of stuff anymore." 

"Clan feud? What does that have to do with Jensen?" 

"Nothing. But he's my best friend so I came by to keep an eye on him, after my grandma's vision. And I was here when he got the death threat. It showed up under his door while he was on set. But it wasn't a wolf so I don't know how it's connected." 

"What do you mean, 'not a wolf,'" Jared asked. "What did it say?" 

"It said, 'Hanging with wolves? You disgust me. Leave my city or you're dead.'" Chris looked beseechingly at Jared. "You get it, right, why I couldn't tell him? He doesn't know about me—my family. I should have told him, years ago, but . . . not everyone reacts well, and Jen's like my brother. Everything was great, so why ruin it, you know? I figured I could protect him from one stupid human." He looked away and gave a bitter laugh and kicked a broken dish. "Worked out great, don't you think—?” 

Jared looked up sharply at the abrupt silence to find Chris staring, horrified, at the doorway. Jared twisted around to see Jensen standing there, and his eyes flew wide as he looked from one man to the other. 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Jensen spoke from the doorway."Were you ever going to tell me someone is trying to _kill_ me?"

* * *

Jensen didn't speak to them for the rest of the night. Jared shared the small guest room with Chris, and both kept well out of Jensen's way. Chris was a serious cover hog when he wasn't furry, and as a result neither of them slept. And when Jensen stormed out with a shouted, "Stay out of my stuff!” Jared clearly heard the slam of the door. He craned his neck to look at the clock on the other side of Chris. 

"Two A.M." Jared said. "Where do you think he went?" There was no answer. 

An hour later, Chris tossed off his covers and left the room. Jared gave up on sleep as well and sat down on a living room chair to watch Chris pace. He stared at Chris's measured steps; the man turned as he reached the wall and walked back in his same footprints. Jared wondered if it was deliberate. The medium pile carpet now had evenly spaced depressed areas in a line across the room. Eventually, Chris wandered into the kitchen and poured a bowl of cereal. 

"Werewolves. . ." Jared began, and paused as Chris raised an eyebrow and waited. "Um, I was wondering . . ." He paused again as he wondered how to ask this without getting mauled. 

Chris sighed. "Just spit it out, kid." 

Jared bristled at the patronizing tone. He wasn't that much younger than the other man. "I just wondered what rank you are." Chris seemed taken aback. "I mean in your . . . pack. I know about Alpha and Bet—" 

"What you know about anything would take two seconds to cover," Chris stated setting his empty bowl on the counter with unneeded force. "Seriously, humans do flawed studies on captive wolves a half-century ago, decide it applies to anything remotely lupine, and then ignore the more accurate newer studies . . . Our 'Alphas'? Sure, I call them Mom and Dad! And you damn well better believe I listen to them!" 

"Sorry . . . I just . . . I heard . . ." 

"Oh, I know what you just." He took a breath and let it out in a sigh. "Sorry, Jared. It's kind of a pet peeve. The misconceptions, hearing everyone talk about shit they know nothing about, and not being in a position to correct them. We just live in regular families, maybe a bit more extended than most people's these days, but you can hardly send grandpa to a nursing home or a baby to a daycare and risk them accidentally turning. Other than that, just regular family stuff happens." 

"Why don't you—werewolves, I mean—set the record straight?" 

Chris shrugged. "The last big get together we had, with representatives from each family, was decades ago, and everyone agreed that it was best to lay low, blend in, and not draw attention. And I think they were right, given the political situation at the time. But now . . . I don't know." 

"So . . . what's Jensen to you?" Jared braced himself for Chris's ire, but he had to ask. 

"Jen and I, we've been friends for years. Met in university. Got him his first audition. He never went home on breaks, so after a bit, he started coming home with me." Chris smiled at the memories, but Jared frowned. 

"Why not go home?" 

Chris shrugged. "Never really said. Kind of a private person; doesn't get on with strangers much." Chris shot Jared a glance. "Except with you, of course. He and his parents had some kind of falling out from what I gather." 

"Do you think . . .?" 

"Nah, no way. He might not see eye to eye with them, but you should hear him talk about his Dad. As if the man is the fucking second coming—family patriarch or something. Really tight-knit," Chris said, and Jared raised his eyebrows at a werewolf saying someone _else's_ family was close-knit. 

The thud of the door opening sent both men to their feet and into the hallway, but they paused when faced with a still angry Jensen. 

"Jen, I'm . . . God, I'm so sorry," Chris said, and Jared could picture him as a wolf, head down with his tail tucked away, refusing to look in Jensen's eyes. "I should have said something but my family's shit isn't yours. You didn't have to be involved. That's why I came— to protect you." 

Jensen looked ready to spit tacks. "Like hell. This is my life and I know damn well how to protect myself. Or I would have, had I known there was any danger. . . So your grandma had a nightmare, that right? And you come running?" 

"Knew he wouldn't take it seriously," Chris muttered, and then he continued more loudly. "She's been known to be clairvoyant. Sometimes. She dreamed this symbol. It's similar to the crest of rival family—well, once-rival family. I mean . . . it's not exactly the same, but close." 

"But this group is no longer a rival? And what does that mean, exactly?" Jensen asked. 

"No," Chris shrugged. "Not for a hundred or so years. And it's complicated, but..." 

"Let's see," Jensen demanded. "The crest." 

Chris shrugged picked up a stray piece of paper from the mess that still littered the floor and sketched out a design Jared couldn't see. "Grandma isn't known for her drawing skills, even before the arthritis set in, but it was something like this . . ." 

Jensen glanced at the paper for six seconds. 

"You're a fucking idiot," he said. "I know this. I know the symbol. And this language has nothing to do with you." 

"That's not any language that— " 

"Well, you wouldn't be familiar with this one. Not really spoken, except by the oldest of our family, but we all learn it," Jensen said. Jared, watching this exchange, frowned. There was something different in Jensen's inflection when his spoke of his family. 

"Oh? So what is it?" Chris asked. 

"A territorial marker. Someone's challenging my right to the city." Jensen said the last few words with clenched teeth, glaring at the paper in his hand. 

"Huh, what?" It was the first thing Jared had said since Jensen had walked in from wherever he'd gone, and it succinctly summed up his understanding of the situation. "Someone wants you to move? And, wait, you have a right to the city?" Jared scrunched his face in confusion. 

Jensen snarled, but it was directed at the now-crumpled paper in his hand, not at Jared. "I am _not_ moving! I gave up jobs elsewhere, gave up some possible career-making roles, because this is _my_ city. I'm not leaving my city. Mine!" Jared blinked at his vehemence. He was missing something, he knew, and Chris seemed likewise in the dark, which perversely made Jared feel a bit better. 

"But you won't go to the police about it . . . so you're going to what? Fight?" Jared said, and did a double-take when Jensen didn't immediately deny it. 

"It's a family matter." Jensen obviously considered the case closed. 

Chris looked at Jensen, puzzled. "Okay, so your family is what, tied to the mob?" Chris joked, but no one laughed. 

"Close enough," Jensen muttered. "Not that a werewolf should say anything about family." Jensen directed a pointed glare to Chris, who dropped the broken guitar he was absently toying with. Both winced as it hit the floor with a discordant bang. 

"Chris," Jensen said, "do you think I'm stupid? Sorry, but you're not Clark Kent, and Aldis makes a shitty pair of glasses. Did you seriously thing I wouldn't notice that you and 'Ellie' are never in the same place?" Chris had no response and merely stared. 

"You're . . . taking it really well," Jared said, slowly. 

"Well," Jensen said, "it would be pretty hypocritical if I didn't . . . seeing as I'm a dragon."

* * *

#####  Dragon

"No way!" Chris involuntarily took a step backwards. 

"You're a . . ." Jared trailed off. 

"Dragon," Jensen said, helpfully. More blank looks and Jensen almost seemed disappointed. 

"Not that I don't believe you, Jen," Chris said. "But, um, you—" 

"Have no wings," Jared said. 

". . . can't even light a campfire. You've been with us camping and you're useless." 

"Yeah, like I would give myself away like that, even if I could," Jensen said. "No. No wings, or scales, or tail," he looked them each in turn, "or fire. That stuff's been lost. . ." 

"Lost?" Jared asked, but Chris overrode him. 

"Jen, I want to believe you but . . . prove it." 

Jensen gave a huff of frustration. "Why the hell would I make a claim like that?" 

Jared raised his hands in a calming gesture. "I think what Chris is getting at is that he can shift and turn into Ellie. But you . . . are human." 

"No." Jensen said. "I'm a dragon. And yeah, dragons were shifters, too . . . historically. Specific, like werewolves." 

"Were? Not anymore?" Chris asked. 

"No." 

"Give me more than that, Jen." 

Jensen sighed. "It's about survival, and dragons were more visible than wolves: bigger and harder to hide. Harder to stay fed in dragon form too. With more people, there were places to hide, and those who shifted eventually were seen and made it hard for everyone else. So dragons started to blend in, not to shift. Stayed in human form. I guess over time it became more and more difficult to switch. It does still happen, but it's rare, and . . . discouraged. Dangerous. Only a few in recent years could make the transition. " 

"Everything was lost?" Chris chewed his lip. He seemed rattled, Jared thought. 

"Not everything," Jensen said with a determined smile as he walked towards the door. 

"Jensen! Where are you going? Again." Chris stood up, and for a second Jared thought he was going to block the way. 

"To find him. The trespasser. I came back to find out about the threat, about what your grandmother saw." 

"But—" 

"He wants me to know he's here," Jensen continued. 

"Who?" 

"The dragon." 

" _What_ dragon?" Chris nearly growled it, and Jared wondered if he'd be getting an unexpected look at werewolf shifting. 

"The one who's trying to claim my bloody city!" Jensen whirled around and the feral look in his eye was new. Jared considered what it meant, that Jensen was not entirely human. "Now that I know there's someone after me," Jensen continued, "I can do something about it, something a wizard and a werewolf can't: I can go find them. I can sense other dragons." 

"How?" 

"I don't know! How can you smell? You just can. I can do this. All dragons can. It's just not a sense that's used often. It's takes concentration, and is harder with other people around." 

"You never sensed anything on set, when that threat was dropped off," Chris said. 

"I just told you it takes concentration. On set, I concentrate on work! He could have walked right by me and I wouldn't have known. And I hadn't been looking for another dragon in my city," he glared at Chris. "But tonight, now that I know, I can find him." 

"So you're what, going to drive around a city of over a half-million people until you find a single person?" It was meant to be rhetorical, but, when Jensen didn't answer, Jared knew that was exactly what he planned to do. 

"Fine," Jared said. "I'll drive. You can't," he continued when Jensen went to object, "concentrate on driving if you're concentrating on finding this other dragon. I drive." 

Jensen grumbled but he raised no further objections, and Jared put on his old patched sneakers and joined him at the elevator. 

* * *

"So, your family," Jared had waited, admirably, he thought, before voicing one of the many questions he had. 

"What about them." Jensen scanned the streets with narrowed gaze as he spoke. 

"They're dragons?" 

Jensen quirked a lip. "Yeah, that's usually how it works." 

"Is it like the werewolf packs? Werewolf families," Jared corrected himself, mindful of Chris' earlier comments. "You know . . . close-knit and big families and all that?" Jensen hadn't lost the amused little half-smile, and Jared was relived. It was damn hard not asking things that might be species-ist when he had next to no knowledge of the topic. 

"Kind of the opposite, actually. Dragons are . . . um . . . a bit territorial," Jensen said, and Jared didn't comment on the huge understatement that was, based on his recent personal observations. "Children set off on their own around 18, sometimes sooner, really it depends on the personalities involved. Dragons only live long- term with their mates. It just . . . doesn't work with anyone else. And once the kids settle down, find a place to live, either on their own or as part of a pairing, they find it hard to be around other dragons too. Even family." 

"And this is your city?" 

"Yes." 

"Your partner?" Jared didn't examine too closely why his stomach twisted a bit, waiting on Jensen's answer. The twists turned into butterflies when Jensen returned a heated look, and Jared hadn't felt like this in . . . a long time, since before his father split and his mother got sick. After that, he'd been too busy to concern himself with relationships. 

"Haven't found her yet. Not in a huge hurry, either." He paused. "Listen, Jare, 'bout the mating . . . it's a biology thing, a drive. I haven't felt it yet, that need to pair up, to have kids, but . . . " Jensen sighed. "Jared, I'm sorry. This whole thing. I didn't mean for you to get caught up in it. I can drop you home . . ." 

Jared looked at him in puzzlement, until he remembered that he had come to Jensen’s to pick up his things. He shook his head at Jensen's offer. Leaving Jensen now . . . no way in hell. It was already too late; he was here and the other man would have to force him away. 

Jensen studied Jared, his eyes lightened, and he simply nodded before he returned to his search. 

* * *

A few hours later, Jared and Jensen arrived back at the apartment, and Jared shook his head at Chris's raised eyebrows. The werewolf sat bare-chested on the floor withJensen's spare guitar on his lap. He watched Jensen's stiff back as the dragon walked into his bedroom and closed the door. Chris's pencil paused above a sheet of half-composed song lyrics, dotted with notations. He glanced to Jared who had thrown himself down onto the couch Chris was leaning against. 

"Nothing?" he asked 

"No. Other that it gave Jensen a bad headache." 

Jared scanned the room with his othersight and was relieved to notice small improvements. The few things that Jensen had righted now held less of the taint, like a metaphysical fingerprint of Jensen reclaiming what was his. 

"What do you see?" Chris had leaned forward and was looking at Jared as if he were an interesting lab specimen. 

"Checking for imprints . . . auras, whatever you want to call them." 

"Sure." Chris seemed skeptical and turned back to his music, picking out a pattern on his guitar, and then pausing to make notes on his creased paper. The gentle play of muscles in his forearm caught Jared's gaze, and he followed the movement up into the strong shoulders that cradled the instrument. 

Jared decided to try and explain. "You know how someone who's deaf can pick up on the sound vibration but can't translate it into sound?" It was suddenly important to Jared that someone understand. 

"Umm . . . maybe," Chris said, and he ran his fingers through his picking pattern again, cocking his head to the side. Jared had no idea what he was listening for, but from the frown on Chris's face, he obviously hadn't found it. 

Jared could tell that he'd better get to a point quickly or he'd lose the werewolf's attention. "It's kind of like that for me," Jared continued. "Most people can occasionally get a 'vibe' off someone, right? And they don't know why. That's the aura you're picking up on, like deaf people feel the sound vibrations. I hear the full symphony. And my brain interprets them as . . . umm . . . food. Desserts mostly." 

Chris put his pencil down and looked up at Jared. 

"You want to eat me?" 

Jared coughed. "Ah . . . n—no! That's not at all what I meant," he sputtered, and resolutely turned his eyes away from where they'd been appraising Chris. "It has nothing to do with food or eating—or sex," Jared didn't stop at Chris's sharply raised eyebrow or renewed look of interest. "It's just how I see things, the auras; that's how they look to me. Other people interpret them differently. I met a witch with the same ability who smelled them as distinct spice combinations, but who saw nothing. I heard of someone else could touch auras and could tell a person's intention by the feel." He trailed off, realizing that he'd been babbling. "It's different for everyone. I see sweets and baked goods, mostly; sometimes I can even smell them. Demons and evil things usually look and smell burnt or like something that's started to rot." 

"That right?" Chris offered nothing else, nothing to show whether or not he believed him. After a silence that had Jared squirming, Chris said. "And me? What's my aura look like?" 

"Melted chocolate," Jared said. He hated this question, and it was always the first one asked. What he saw was a personal interpretation, based on his experiences, and it rarely matched up with people's own views of themselves. 

"Seriously? Chocolate?" Chris's single raised eyebrow showed both interest and the promise of pain depending on his answer. "So what does that mean?" 

"Mean? It doesn't mean anything; it just is. And not just any chocolate, more like 70% pure dark chocolate." Jared said the last part softly. 

"Cool. I'm gourmet." Jared looked up in surprise, expecting more, but Chris had returned to his song and his expression betrayed nothing. 

"And what about me?" 

Jared twisted around, to see Jensen walk forward from where he'd stood in the doorway. The tightness around his eyes suggested that Jensen's headache hadn't abated. 

"Hey, Jen. Feeling any better?" Jared asked. 

"Not really. Anyway, Chris is chocolate. So what am I?" 

Oh fuck. Jared considered lying. "Cake sprinkles," he muttered. The words hadn't carried to Jensen, but Chris burst out laughing. 

"What was that?" Jensen's voice was more suspicious as he watched Chris doubled over on the floor. Jared sighed. 

"Cake sprinkles," he said, and Chris redoubled his laughter, slapping his thigh. Jared didn't figure it would help to mention that they were the multicolor ones and some of them sparkled. As it was, Jensen simply stared at him. 

"Really?" Jensen said. "I'm not sure what to say to that." His mouth quirked in a smile, and he laughed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I just wanted to tell you guys that I'm tired and turning in." Jensen avoided looking at any of the remaining mess as he spoke—impressive, considering how much was still strewn about. 

Jared frowned at Jensen's back. He hadn't liked the undertone of hurt in the dragon's voice. 

"C'mon, son." Chris set the guitar aside and stretched before he stood up. "I think we should work a bit on your fighting style, just in case it's needed." 

"What fighting style?" 

"Exactly. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to fight, kid?" 

Jared couldn't help the droop of his shoulders. "Not a kid," he said out of habit. 

"Mmmhmm," Chris said, in the most infuriating way possible. 

Jared yawned, looked at the brightening sky, and then shook his head. "Nah, I need some sleep. Aren't you tired?" 

"Had a lot of practice with late nights. Doesn't really bother me," Chris said. "Go on then. I've gotta call in and tell people Jen won't be at work today." 

As Jared walked past Jensen's room to the guest room , he paused. 

"He's fine. Just been a long day," Chris said from the living room, and then he resumed scrolling through his contact list to find work's number. 

Jared knocked on Jensen's bedroom door anyway. "Jensen?" There was no invitation, but since there was also no shouting to leave him alone, Jared counted it a win and entered. Jensen sat on the edge of his bed and stared out at the mornings sky. 

"Jensen? Everything okay?" 

Jensen sounded beyond merely tired when he laughed. "My place was broken into, someone's trying to kill me, and even worse, they're trying to take my city." Jared frowned at the order of that statement as Jensen continued, "I couldn't find the son of a bitch, and all I got was a fucking migraine. And to top it all off, you compare me to a frivolous decoration. Useless. Yeah, the day's been swell." 

"No." Jared said, "Jensen, I don't think that you're useless. I don't know if you heard me explain to Chris, but it just doesn't work that way. It doesn't mean anything!" That wasn't quite true. "Well, it's not what you think," Jared amended, and sat down on the chair by the door. When Jensen turned towards him, Jared almost lost his nerve. He didn't feel ready for the vulnerability the truth would show, but Jensen, of all people, needed to understand. "My aura thing. It has nothing to do with you. I mean it sort of does, but it's more about me. Fuck! I suck at explaining this!" 

"Yeah, you do," Jensen said, but Jared found his small smile encouraging. 

"My mom owned a bakery," Jared began. "Co-owner with my dad until the asshole left when I was fourteen, and then it was her and me. I helped out in the kitchen for pretty much as long as I can remember. Sometimes, especially when I was little, things burnt, flopped, and came out wrong. My mom was cool about it, but my dad . . . he never really needed much of an excuse. Anyway, I have bad memories about some things, like crème Brule or peanut brittle, because my dad—well, just because. So when I see a certain type of aura that reminds me of that, I know I need to avoid those people. It's very personal, and even if you could see what I do . . . well, you would see something completely different than me." 

"Chris?" he asked, after a moment to process what Jared had said. 

Jared smiled. "Chocolate, the bitter dark kind. One of my favorite foods, but a little goes a long way." Jensen’s laugh filled the room. 

"And when you look at me—" Jensen began, but Jared cut him off. 

"My mom died when I was seventeen," he said. He _never_ talked about this. "She was sick for a long time. Self-employed, no insurance. I dropped out, kept things running . . . but then she needed more care, and I couldn't . . . I lost the bakery, couldn't make the rent. She never knew they were going to evict us. I couldn't tell her." 

Jared blinked away the memories and took a steadying breath as he refocused on his point. "She always loved decorating cakes for me." He smiled wistfully at the memory. "She used to make amazing, intricate cakes for parties, weddings. . . I made us a cake a few days before she passed. No occasion, just 'cause. Was nothing fancy—hell, we didn't have any money by then. I found some colored cake sprinkles in the cupboard. God, I don't even want to guess how old those things must have been. She put them on. I didn't think she had the strength to do it, but she was so happy to be able to do this last cake for me." 

Jared continued to stare at the wall, unwilling to meet Jensen's eyes. He couldn't handle sympathy right now; he wouldn't be able to hold it together. "To me, cake sprinkles have nothing to do with decoration or a pretty face. It's home." His voice broke a little. "And I've never seen an aura like that before, on anyone." 

Jared stood up abruptly and walked out of the room without waiting for a response from Jensen. He retreated to the guest bedroom, and closed the door on Chris's voice from the living room. "Jared? Everything okay?" 

* * *

To his surprise, Jared did fall asleep, and when he woke up, he washed the salty trails from his cheeks and went about the day as if his conversation with Jensen hadn't happened. Jared ignored Jensen's intense stares and Chris's puzzled glances. Fortunately, there was so much left to straighten and so many streets for Jensen and Chris to drive around in search of a dragon, that it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. 

The next day they went to the set. 

There could be no more delays in filming without incurring some hefty fines, and Jensen practically bristled at the suggestion. 

On set, Jensen seemed a far cry from the genial co-star everyone knew. Authoritarian and insistent Jensen made Jared's status as his bodyguard clear. Jared accompanied Jensen everywhere on set, despite the glare he received from a large segment of the crew who'd had to deal with the cleanup in the wake of the firehound attack and Jared's abrupt firing. Jared tried as best he could to keep out of sight while still watching out for Jensen. Chris was around, in his usual canine form, and if the crew thought that Ellie was unusually active and underfoot, poking his nose into everything, Jared heard no complaint. 

The set was its usual chaotic mess. No one else seemed confused and Jared figured that what still seemed like chaos to him was probably a bunch of people who all knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing. He hadn't figured it out in the couple weeks he'd been their most inept security guard, and he didn't even try to decipher it now. 

Jared read more auras in his first half-hour on set than he had in the previous month. "Scan them all," Jensen had asked. And Jared did. He hadn't foreseen the nausea he would get. He hadn't been sick due to his othersense since he was child and his new sense had appeared and confused him (prompting his worried mother to drag him to several eye care specialists). But a lot of people worked on this shoot, and the aura signature he searched for was specific and subtle. 

They were filming a large crowd scene, so Jared joined them, milling around, reading auras. Croissant, puff pastry, chocolate nougat, lemon tart, rye bread, vinegar candies, slightly burnt toast . . . the impressions of all those people was overpowering, and nauseating. Not all auras were different. For example, there were three banana cream pies on the camera crew, and as much as Jared would have liked to examine that a bit further, there was simply no time. Too many cast, crew, guests, delivery people, visiting bigwigs and their entourages, to say nothing of the extras. 

After a day of intense filming to make up for the previous lost days, with Jared shadowing Jensen's every move and Chris investigating on his own, the three were exhausted when they arrived back at Jensen's apartment. Relieved to be able to sit back and watch maybe something mindless on TV while his stomach settled, Jared almost ran into Jensen who had stopped at the threshold of his apartment, with his hand still on the doorknob. 

"Jen?" Jared said. Jensen said nothing as he walked in slowly, and looked around. Jared was jostled aside by Chris's solid and compact canine body. The wolf went from room to room, sniffing in all corners. When he finally walked out of the bedroom in naked human form, he nodded to Jensen, before he walked over to grab Jensen's spare sweat pants. 

"Maybe," Chris said to Jensen. "Nothing seems moved, but the scent is stronger than it was this morning. Yeah, I think it's the same person who was here before." 

"What do you mean by 'stronger'?" Jensen asked, and his nostrils flared. "Can you still smell them?" 

"Uh, well, more like a lingering trace. . ." Chris admitted. 

Jensen walked into his apartment, and spun around to face them. "I thought it was gone. I need all traces gone! What do I need to do, pee in all the corners?!" He stomped from room to room and came back. "And you say they came back? While I was at work?" he asked Chris, who nodded. 

"I think so," Chris said. "Like I said, the scent's stronger." They all walked around again, but nothing had been touched, nothing was out of place, not only in the bathroom, but in the entire apartment. 

Jared studied the rooms with his othersight and shrugged. "Nothing's been touched, but Chris is right, the smell is stronger," he said. Jensen grimaced in consternation. 

"Okay. I'm grabbing a shower," he said, and grimaced. "Makes me feel dirty," he muttered. 

Fifteen minutes later there was a booming crash from the bathroom that had Jared and Chris racing to reach the door. Jensen had locked it, so Chris tried unsuccessfully to kick it in. Jared sent a blast of energy towards the lock and the door burst open in a spray of smoldering wooden splinters and a crash as the metal lock struck the tile floor. Chris and Jared entered to see Jensen standing in the middle of a mess of broken glass, still dripping wet, and wrapped in a towel. An unplugged hair dryer lay on the counter and had obviously been thrown to shatter the mirror. 

"Jen?" Chris asked, after a slight hesitation. 

"He was here. The other dragon," Jensen said, and his rigid body belied the casualness in his voice. "The steam. He left me a message on the mirror." 

"What did it say?" Chris asked, but Jensen didn't answer. In a blink Jared engaged his othersight and, on the mirror-less wall, Jared saw large block letters in scorch marks; the intent had imprinted the message beyond its media onto the surface behind it. _LEAVE_. 

"Leave," Jared whispered, and Jensen turned towards him, perhaps surprised that Jared had seen. 

"We'll get him," Chris said. And he looked to Jared for an expression of support, but Jared was staring at Jensen. "Jared?" 

"Holy shit," Jared whispered. "No way!" 

"I know! Here—he was here again! IN MY HOME," Jensen yelled, oblivious to Jared's staring. 

"Ahem. Jenny? There something you want to tell us?" Chris said with a cough, having followed Jared's gaze to where Jensen had let his towel wrap open in his distraction. Jutting up from Jensen's wiry, dirty blond curls that held just a hint of red, were not one but two fully formed cocks. Jared blinked but they were still there.

* * *

"No way!" It was the third time Jared had repeated it, after Jensen had attempted a red-faced explanation. 

"No, no, let's see 'em." Chris snatched the towel away from Jensen before his friend was able to cover up again. "Years. We've been friends for years. How the hell did I not know this? So, you're saying you have a lizard cock?" Chris said. 

"No! I have a dragon's. Do I _look_ like a lizard?" Jensen's last word practically dripped contempt. 

Jared didn't think it would help to point out that he didn't exactly look like a dragon either. 

"So you have penises-es? Penisi?" Jared said. 

Jensen groaned. "It's called a hemipene. You know, technically." Jared glanced up to see Jensen awkwardly bite his bottom lip as his two friends gawked at him, and Jared's eyes were drawn to Jensen's groin again. "Can we please get back to the fucking writing on my wall?" 

"Hot damn, son," Chris said. Jared was relieved that he wasn't the only one transfixed. "Are they, uh, functional?" Chris stared with interest again at Jensen's hemipenes. They, in turn, twitched. Jared thought, absently, that Jen might have a bit of an exhibitionist streak. 

Jensen's sigh was closer to a growl. "Fuck you Chris." 

"Hmmm." Both men paused to stare at each other, before Chris looked away and Jensen shifted uncomfortably. 

"Out! Both of you!" Jensen snatched back his towel from Chris and herded both out before closing the door again. It didn't stay closed without a working latch, and Jared tried not to look at the wedge of light coming from the opening, that darkened and shifted as Jensen swept up the shards of broken mirror. 

* * *

After a hurried trip to Dinwiddie's, Jared had set up the magical equivalent of a intruder alarm, which would send a prickling pain into his hand should anyone other than the three of them set foot on Jensen's floor. Everyone had visibly relaxed as they watched the red glow of Jared's spell disappear into the walls and floor. That evening, Jared stretched out on the sofa, near Jensen, drinking another of Jensen's soft drinks ("Seriously, I'm not an alcoholic, Jen! I can have one beer!"), and listened to Jensen's explanations of dragon biology, while Chris, still shirtless in Jensen's pants, sat cross-legged on the floor and finger-picked a melody. 

Jared shook his head. "But evolution doesn't work like that!" 

"Really?" Jensen rolled his eyes. "You, who can _stop time by blinking_ , and your idiot werewolf friend think _my_ little biology thing is a problem?" 

"Not exactly by blinking," Jared muttered. Though he wished it were that simple— that would be fantastic. "And he's _your_ friend." 

"And not exactly a little thing," muttered Chris, and he smothered a chuckle. 

"I just . . . don't get why you have them," Jared said. "You said dragons can't actually physically be dragons anymore, so—" 

"Wait a sec. That's not what I said," Jensen said. "A few can change. But it's rare, and dangerous." He sighed his frustration, chewed his cheek, took a deep breath, and then continued. 

"There's a theory," he said, "that it's a matter of brain chemistry. That there's this chemical that needs to be present in a certain quantity in order to be able to shift into dragon form. And it's not concentrated enough these days. _And_ ," Jensen continued, as Jared opened his mouth to ask a question, "the reason why depends on who you talk to. Some say intermarriage, dilution of the blood and all of that crap. Others say it's the hidden toxins in our environment. They say that dragon biology is more sensitive to environmental poisons than humans." 

"Activist freaks," Chris muttered. 

"It does happen now and then—the shift," Jensen continued, ignoring Chris's comment and eye roll, "but it takes a lot to get there. My uncle was able to transform ever since he nearly fell off a bridge doing stupid teenage stuff. Held on by his fingertips, according to the stories, then boom! Dragon. I guess it was enough—the near-death thing—to trigger a huge chemical rush. Something like human adrenalin, but, for dragons, the biological reaction is um . . . bigger. 

"There's politics involved now. There used to be a lot of accidents or what the authorities ruled to be suicides. People would do stupid dangerous stuff to force the change, and it usually backfired. Some groups saw it as a rite of passage, but they were banned. My Dad, well, he has strong views against it." 

"And you never . . ?" 

"No. Well, we all do our share of crazy shit—dragons that is. Sure I did silly kid stuff. But no, I never turned." 

"So you can't or you just never got scared enough?" Jared asked. 

Jensen shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm not going to kill myself trying, so who cares." 

"So what is left of the dragon side?" Chris asked. "Just the extra penis?" He was taking no end of amusement at Jensen's red face. Jensen sighed. 

"The iconic dragon stuff—you know the fire-breathing, the tail, wings—that went with the shift. When we lost the ability to shift, we mostly ended up with human characteristics. Thing is," Jensen continued, "There are, um, those differences between dragon and human physiology that are . . . um, different." 

"Differences that are different. Wealth of info there Jenny." 

"Fuck you, Chris. Werewolves still have knots in human form, so you have nothing to say about it." 

Jared's head snapped down to Chris. "Really?" 

Chris shrugged. "Yeah. Male werewolves have knots. So? Not a state secret." 

Jared frowned as he thought. "Does it have something to do with not changing the equipment down there? To make sure you don't screw up reproduction?" 

Jensen picked up Jared's empty can as well as his own and put them into his recycling bin. "Don't know. Does it matter? It just is." 

"'Down there,'" Chris snickered. "Seriously? And you're the prostitute?" 

Jensen looked up at Jared and their eyes met. Chris's blunt mention of his profession introduced a near-palpable shift in the air between them. To Jared's relief, Jensen hadn't brought up anything more about the whole sprinkles issue, nor had he mentioned Jared's overt propositioning after he'd been fired. But now, given the recent topics, and his growing feeling for Jensen, Jared couldn't get the images out of his mind. Going from sex—even cold, meaningless sex with strangers—multiple times a night to nothing for weeks . . . Jared found himself interested again, when he'd never thought he would be. A werewolf and a dragon . . . not even Chad could top that. 

He smiled and tried in vain for suave, streetwalker Jared. With Jensen there, all sparkly, Jared couldn't find it, and even with his years of experience, he felt like a shy awkward teen again. With Jensen, it would mean something. 

Chris looked at the two of them and shook his head. He got up, and walked to Jensen. Jensen watched him coming with wide eyes that only got wider when Chris yanked him up into a searing kiss. 

"Been wanting to do that for while," Chris said, when he'd released Jensen. 

"Oh," Jensen said. "I didn't . . ." 

Chris sighed with a smirk that Jared thought seemed out of place, like self-directed mocking. "I know you didn't, Jen." 

"I mean, you never . . . You and Aldis . . . Your girlfriends. . . Chris, you were my dog!" 

"Yeah, and you should have just called me on that!" Chris said, and he took a step back. 

"Well, I wanted you to tell me yourself! Dammit, Chris, you're my best friend! And you're a fucking werewolf! So yeah, I went with it. Wasn't hurting anyone, but fuck if I could figure out what you were doing it for." 

"Jenny, you don't get to call me out for keeping secrets," Chris said. "I couldn't let you get hurt for something that was after my family. Another thing I got wrong." He sighed and let it go. "And the girls . . . Jen, I don't do labels, you know that. And I'm not expecting anything. I just . . . Like I said, been wanting to do that for a while. Figured I'd cross something off my bucket list—when I was sober for a change." 

"A while?" 

Chris shrugged. "Don't imagine you remember. Freshman year? That Purple Party? After, when we . . ." 

From the widening of Jensen's eyes, Jared thought he probably remembered very well. 

"You never said anything about—" Jensen said quietly. 

"Neither did you." 

In the silence that followed, Jared wondered what had happened and knew that neither would tell him. He couldn't take his eyes away and was mildly surprised by the hollow ache in his chest. 

"I'm not hung up on you or whatever," Chris continued, "and yeah, I like women, generally. I've just wondered is all. A what-if," Chris's self-mocking smile faded into surprise as Jensen took a step forward and brought their mouths together, slower, more carefully than Chris had done. In a moment they broke apart, and Jensen lowered his head and half-turned away. 

"Chris," Jensen began, and Jared could hear the regret. Chris' puzzled expression cleared as he stared at his friend and then looked over at Jared. Whatever he saw there made him smile. 

"Jared, you ever seen a werewolf dick?" he said, and he raised his eyebrows in invitation. It was Jensen's quick lift of his head, and the look of interest Jared read there, that decided him. 

Jensen's eyes widened as Jared accepted Chris's invitation and walked towards them. Jensen was still staring at Jared when Chris cupped Jensen's face in his hands and pulled him in, putting his whole body into the kiss. Jensen's eyes closed, and Jared swore he heard a whimper. Jared let his hand trail down Chris's muscled back, and, tentatively, Jared's other hand reached out to touch Jensen. Jared's breath caught. With Jensen, it wouldn't just be about sex; it would mean something. 

* * *

It had meant something all right; Jared just wasn't sure what. 

Jared gradually regained control of his othersight, and the blinding sparkles, that had blotted out anything but Jensen, slowly faded away. Jensen lay half atop Jared, facedown in the cushions and still breathing hard with an leg still between Jared's legs and an arm thrown across Jared's chest. Jared turned his head to see Chris, leaning back, on the other side of Jensen, watching him with a wistful smile. Watching them. When their eyes met, Chris smirked. 

"Hot damn, kid." 

Jared couldn't speak yet to correct him. Everything he saw appeared to have a shiny, polished edge to it, and his skin tingled with energy. 

" _Mine,_ " Jensen had whispered as he climaxed. The word had hit Jared like a shock wave and its echo still rang in Jared's ears. His very bones had trembled with the intensity of it, and it had pushed Jared over the edge into his own release. 

Jared closed his eyes, and tried to wipe away the goofy smile he knew he must be sporting. In the lassitude brought on by sexual release after a really long day, Jared dozed, until Chris's whisper to Jensen caught his attention. 

"This thing with you and me," Chris said, "it's really not going to happen again, is it?" 

"No. I don't think so," Jensen said after a long silence. "Chris—" 

"I'm a big boy, Jensen. Not gonna break. I pretty much knew when I kissed you. You look at him all the time." He laughed. "It went further than I thought it would, though. You and him . . . it's gonna be a thing, isn't it?" 

"Yeah. I hope so." No one said anything further and soon Jared heard slow deep breathing, and occasional snore. He stared out the window for a long time before he succumbed to sleep. 

* * *

Jared was the first one awake when the alarm clock rang. He rolled himself out of the tangle of limbs, and stretched. Much as he hated leaving their comfortable sprawl, it was hot with everyone wrapped up in one another. Jared had a new appreciation for massive segmented sofas, but the next time this happened— _if_ this happened—he'd be leaving afterwards for his own bed, where it was cooler with more space. Jared grimaced as he scratched dried come from his body. He should have cleaned up afterwards. 

He padded over to Jensen's bedroom, turned off the screeching alarm, and walked back to the others. 

"Jen," Jared said, "Chris, get up. Alarm went off. Work." Chris cracked an eye, groaned, and rolled over to push himself up. He nudged Jensen once, and then harder a second time. 

"Come on, get your lazy ass out of bed," Chris said with a yawn. "Got to get to work." 

"No. I’m not leaving my place," Jensen said. While most of it was barely intelligible, Jared heard the clear emphasis on _my_. 

"Tough." Chris yanked the throw blanket away from where Jensen had cocooned himself, and he draped it over the back of the couch in its usual place, and Jared made a note to wash it later. "You are. Ever think that's what he wanted? To have you holed up in your cave while he takes over?" Jensen's eyes narrowed at Chris's reference to a classic dragon stereotype, but he didn't argue. 

"Chris, I can't leave. It's . . . I can't explain. It's mine. And he defiled it. I can't . . . if he comes back. . . " Jensen's body was tense as he gave up trying to explain. 

"What if one of us stayed?" Jared suggested. "Me or Chris, we could keep an eye out. And if he knows you're on set and chooses to come back here—" 

"Then I'll take a bite out of him," Chris promised, and started a partial change, just enough to let his canines emerge. The effect was chilling. "Aldis is coming by sometime today. Probably should be here to meet him—get him up to speed. Couple others should be here tomorrow." At Jensen's disconcerted glare, Chris shrugged. "My family likes you. I called to let them know what was happening. Deal with it." 

* * *

The big group shoot continued today, and, like yesterday, Jared's headache came back full-force almost as soon as he arrived. Also like yesterday, the morning passed uneventfully. But in mid-afternoon, within the flood of sensations and smells, he found something. A whiff of moldy bread assailed him, but it was gone even as he spun around, trying to see past the hors d'oeurves and vinegar candies that blocked his line of sight. When the people cleared, he had missed his chance. 

He turned and sprinted for Jensen at a dead run. 

The head of wardrobe yelled in surprise when Jared threw open the door. Another time, Jared would have appreciated the incongruity of such a high pitched screech coming from a rather large balding guy who wore a black leather biker's jacket, but not today. 

"Jen!" Jared called. 

"Finished ten minutes ago. He should be on set Two," said the wardrobe head. 

"Fuck!" Jared left the trailer and stopped to fish out Jensen's cell phone from his back pocket. Jensen couldn't have it on set because it would show up on camera, but he wanted to remain in contact with Chris in case the dragon returned, so he'd asked Jared to keep it until the end of the scene. Chris's number was located at the very top of Jensen's contact list. 

"Chris! He's here," Jared said, still scanning the crowd as he hurried to find Jensen. Set Two was in the old warehouse, the furthest possible from his current location. "I sensed his aura, but he slipped away. I didn't see his face. I'm going to find Jensen." 

"Fuck! Why the hell weren't you with him?" 

"He wanted me to mingle and scan the crowd, while he was shooting something else! I can't be everywhere!" 

"Okay, we're on our way!" 

Jared's mind spun with new auras that taxed his othersight, and he blocked his ability, so as not to sap his energy on a useless whirlwind of color before he reached Jensen. 

The crew had just finished dismantling a giant gazebo and they were carting the last section outside as Jared arrived. In the otherwise empty, warehouse-like building, Jensen was deep in discussion with this week's guest star, a stunning woman with striking red hair, They had their scripts open and Jensen had stood up to demonstrate something when he saw Jared. 

"Jared?" Jensen said. Jared paused to catch his breath before he could speak, and in the interval, Jensen politely introduced his costar. "Jare, this is Alaina. Alaina, Jared. My . . . bodyguard." Alaina gave Jared an appraising smile. He closed his eyes as he took a breath and gave a small wave of his hand as he stared at his knees and panted. 

"Hey," Jared managed, and then he leaned in to whisper in Jensen's ear. "I have to speak to you privately." With a nod to Alaina, they walked out of earshot. 

"He's here," Jared said. 

"Where?" Jensen said through clenched teeth. 

Jared shook his head. "I lost him in the crowd." 

"But you're sure he's here?" 

"Yeah. Moldy bread." 

"Then I can find him. Give me a minute," Jensen took a breath and closed his eyes to concentrate. Jared knew it hadn’t worked when Jensen's eyes popped open immediately. But then Jensen's nostrils flared and he whispered fiercely. "Jared. Leave! Now." 

"Jensen." Alaina practically purred his name. "Took you long enough. Gotta say, I expected more from Alan's son. You're almost too stupid to live." She laughed. "But I guess that won't be a problem for long, will it?" 

Jensen turned around slowly, and Jared looked from one to the other with dawning comprehension. He brought power to his fingertips and stepped in front of Jensen, blocking him as Jensen also simultaneously tried to step in front of Jared. When they had finished their jockeying, Alaina was regarding them with an amused smile. 

"Where did you find the baby wizard?" Alaina continued. "He's cute. Must be tasty, too." Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at them together, taking in Jensen's overly protective body language. "Very cute. Now I want a pet, too." Her gaze sharpened. “Maybe I'll just take yours." She blinked and Jared stumbled back, surprised that her eyes had turned yellow. He looked at Jensen, who had blanched. 

Alaina smiled and as she did so, her teeth elongated and became pointed raptor's teeth. Jared turned on his othersight and was blinded. He threw up his arm and rapidly blinked his eyes to clear his vision. When he could see again, Alaina was gone, and in her place was a huge red and gold dragon. In a gross violation of the laws of conservation of mass, the dragon was easily twenty times larger than her human form. Her tail whipped around and caught Jensen in the midriff, sending him careening into the side of the warehouse. 

The noise must have attracted the attention of those outside because there was suddenly a pounding on the outer doors as people tried to get in. Jared hadn't seen Alaina lock them, but , realistically, he did not know the abilities of a shifted dragon. They were not supposed to exist anymore. Unlike the demons, imps, and hellhounds he usually dealt with, dragons weren't inherently evil, and his consecrated pocket knife would do nothing. 

Jared gave a mental shrug: when in doubt, blow it up. While not an official wizard motto, Jared found the method highly effective. He levied a series of energy bolts at her, which fazed her only slightly more than they had done the firehound. It did, however, turn her attention away from where Jensen lay 

Jared began to gather power, envisioning it sitting in his hands and imbuing his whole body. It wouldn't be as effective as the shield incantation he usually used with the baby demons, but a shield would render him immobile, and he needed to get to Jensen, who hadn't yet moved from where he'd crumpled by the wall. With any luck, Jared's energy-infused body would scorch and burn any object it contacted. Unlike Chris, whose werewolf sense could detect his energy manipulations, Alaina seemed to be oblivious. 

The dragon hissed and in a blink, she was a woman. 

"And you," she said to him, with a tilt of her head, "are what he chose to protect. Interesting." Alaina walked around Jared in a slow circle, not paying any particular attention to how close she came. "I haven't decided what I should do with you. But," she said, "since I am claiming this city, and any hoard already here, I guess that makes you mine." Her eyes travelled the length of his body. Jensen had begun to move an arm, and Jared resolved to keep her attention. He relaxed his face and slouched, ever so slightly, giving her a sultry smile. 

"I charge three hundred a night," he said, and had the pleasure of seeing her confusion replaced by scorn and then anger, "but for you it's double." 

She reached over to grab him, and the electric shock at the contact sent her careening into the lighting setup. Jared didn't wait to see if it slowed her down. He ran to Jensen, touched one of the metal supports along the warehouse wall to discharge any remaining power, and lifted him onto his shoulder, hoping that the movement wouldn't cause Jensen any more damage. 

The sound of claws on concrete took him by surprise, and he turned in time to see Alaina's dragon form rear up with the intention to—Jared wasn't sure, breathe fire on him, eat him, use paralyzing spit, maybe. The familiar Phoenician syllables he chanted echoed in the warehouse, and the rearing red dragon froze. Jared moved Jensen's frozen body towards the door while maintaining the chant. He pulled open the door, only to find it blocked by several people who were frozen in the midst of battering it. 

Jared's head pounded. He stopped the incantation, and three people immediately fell through the doorway with surprised screeches. The dragon sent a swath of fire to where Jared had been standing moments ago. She whirled around, and, before he restarted the incantation, he saw her expression of rage. He began the chant again and moved Jensen through the doorway, trying his best not to step on the sprawled people's limbs. 

Carrying Jensen along in the motionless world was more like pulling him. And then the world began reanimating in stuttered spurts as Jared's energy flagged. In those moments, the weight of Jensen's body, once more taken by gravity, made him trip and stumble. It had been the longest he had ever been able to maintain the stasis, and when Jared saw Chris, frozen, half-out of the passenger side of alittle Honda hatchback, he let it go with a sigh of relief. Released from his frozen state, Chris bolted out of the car only to run into Jared, with a still unconscious Jensen falling off his shoulder. 

"Get him in," Jared said. Chris took the change of plan in stride and helped Jared maneuver Jensen inside. Jared squished in beside him and Chris took the front seat. "Go!" Jared yelled. The little car immediately took off. Jared let himself collapse against the funky smelling upholstery. 

Chris turned around. "What the hell happened? Jen? Jen? Is he okay? Jared?" 

Jared shook his head as he tried to process everything. "The dragon. It's a she. Is on the show or something. Chris, she can turn!" 

"What?" 

"The dragon. She can turn." 

"No, it's . . . shit. Okay, let me think." Chris bit his lip in concentration and stared out the window. 

"Hey Jared," Aldis said, and he threw a glance at Jared through the rearview mirror before bringing his attention back to the road. "Where is it you want me to go?" 

"I don't know," Jared said. "Not to the apartment. She knows where that is." 

"Jared," Chris said. "She's going to find us anyway. Jen said dragons can find others. She can sense him too. And if she's turned . . . Hell, she might be able to teleport to us for all I know." 

"He said the tracking is harder around a lot of people. Maybe..." 

"Hell no! We're not going to lure a dragon into a crowd!" 

Jared blinked. Of course not, what had he been thinking? He had been worried about Jensen, but had he really been willing to risk others? 

"Go back to the apartment," Jared said. "The warning spell is still working, and I might be able to do something about the dragon locator thing. Shield it, cut the signal. I can't here, there's too much movement and too many different auras. And Jen needs medical attention." 

"Hospital?" 

"No, I can do it," Jared said. "But not like this," he added as Aldis took a corner too fast and his passengers lurched to the side. Aldis glanced back in the rearview mirror. "Sorry," he said. 

"Okay, to Jen's place," Chris told him. 

When they arrived at Jensen's apartment, Chris helped Jared maneuver Jensen out of the cramped backseat. "Shit, he’s not looking too good. And his smell is off." Jared looked at Chris in alarm, and they hurried to get him inside. 

They placed Jensen on the sofa, and Jared felt a pang in his stomach at the difference between Jensen's relaxed sprawl this morning and his boneless unresponsiveness now. The trickle of blood from his nose and the awkward angle of his arm suggested more injuries than Jared had initially noticed in his rushed escape. 

He immediately set about to see to Jensen's injuries. "Chris, it might be a dislocated shoulder. I can fix it but I'll need your help to pop it back in and—" 

When Jared lifted Jensen's shirt, he caught his breath at the sight of the discolored bruising. Jared felt the hardness around Jensen's stomach . . . _Fuck!_ he thought. They should have gone to a hospital. 

"Easy kid," Chris said softly in his ear, and Jared hadn't noticed him walk up. "You said you had this, right? Nothing's changed. Do your," he waved his hands around, "y'know, thing." 

"This is . . . I don't . . ." Jared stopped speaking at the look in Chris's eye. "Okay," he said, and took a deep breath before looking at Jensen again. 

He opened himself and let his hands travel the length of Jensen's body, allowing his energy to flow into Jensen. Jared was still tired from his unsuccessful attempt to disintegrate Alaina and the effort of holding time during his escape. He had never pushed his abilities this hard before, and as he opened the flow of power to Jensen, the edges of his vision blackened. 

"Chris, the dragon . . . Are we safe? Did he block it?" Aldis asked. "And even if he did, isn't this going to be the first place it comes? I mean, it's been here before, so we seriously need to go somewhere else." 

Jared closed his eyes to help block out the distraction and he missed Chris's reply. Jensen needed to be here, in his own place. He _knew_ it. He'd done what he could to throw off Alaina. If she was searching, she would not feel the signature of another dragon. If she chose to come here anyway . . .. Aldis probably had a point, but Jared refused to let himself think about it now. Jensen wasn't in good shape, and the graying sprinkles faded more with every second. 

Jared could feel the blockages to the energy flow that told him that something was wrong. He trusted Jensen's body to do the work as he fed it energy. Slowly, interminably slowly, it seemed, Jensen healed. By the time he reached the last thing that seemed blocked, Jared was barely conscious. He could no longer feel his fingers resting on Jensen's head, and he slouched forward onto Jensen, no longer able to remain upright. He had lost sight and sound in a sea of multicolored sparkles, and he knew he was fast approaching his limits. He sent a final burst of energy to smash through the last barrier. 

As darkness claimed him, he was vaguely aware of being shoved aside by a large black form. 

* * *

"Jared, wake the fuck up!" The panic in Aldis' voice made Jared shake away the cobwebs in his mind and slowly blink awake. As the light hit his eyes, knives of pain stabbed him, and he wondered how much he'd drunk to have this spectacular a hangover. He didn't even remember drinking. 

"You with us, kid?" 

"Chris?" Jared winced against the reverberation of his own voice, and looked up to see Chris's worried face staring down at him, before Chris looked away to stare at something at the other end of the room. 

"Jared, what exactly did you do?" Chris continued, and in contrast to Aldis, he retained his usual unflappable calm, except for a hint of wildness in his eyes…. 

"Huh?" 

"To Jensen! What did you do to Jensen?" Aldis spoke with a slightly hysterical edge that brought Jared fully awake. 

"What happened to Jensen? Is he okay?" 

Aldis' laughter wasn't a good sound. "Is he okay? He's a goddamned dragon!" 

Jared turned his head, wishing the movement didn't make him so nauseated, and what he saw sent him scrambling backwards. A large confused green eye fixed him from the center of a shiny reptilian head that was the color of graphite. 

It had scales in varying shades of grey with black highlights, and it was massive. Not as large as Alaina, one small corner of Jared's mind whispered—the corner that wasn't paralyzed by shock. It only took a moment for Jared to realize that the creature, the dragon, was in distress. It repeatedly tried to stand, but banged its head into the ceiling and its feet seemed unable to coordinate. When its wings partially unfolded, they banged into the walls, leaving large holes. The movement startled the dragon, and the resulting panic of limbs landed it head first into the wall. It began to lift its head again, before thinking better of it and letting it rest on the floor. 

"That . . . that's Jensen?" Jared asked, though it wasn't really necessary. With the striking green eyes and the pattern of Jensen's freckles mirrored in the small dark scales on the dragon's face, it was obvious. 

"Jared, anything you have to tell us?" Chris said. 

"I just . . . I healed him." 

Chris laughed. "Yeah, well it looks like Jen went up a weight class or two. He's a dragon and he turned. You turned him." 

"No! Chris, I just healed him. I swear. It's not that specific, what I do. I just throw energy around or sometimes use incantations to focus energy. I guess . . . he already was a dragon. He just couldn't shift." 

"Well," laughed Chris, "you healed him of that alright." 

"What the hell do you mean 'already a dragon'?" Aldis said. "Since when?" No one answered him. 

"Maybe the near-death thing that he mentioned," Jared said. "The adrenalin or whatever. Maybe that did it." 

Chris shrugged. "He was dying, Jared. But he only shifted when you tried to fix him." 

A clatter of movement cut their conversation short as Jensen tried again to rise. As his wing unfurled and smashed the light fixture, the dragon opened its mouth. Jared had honestly expected a roar but it only hissed. 

"Go help him!" he whispered to Chris. 

"What!?" 

"You're a werewolf," Jared said. 

"Yeah," said Aldis from Chris's other side, "and Jensen's most definitely not." 

"Explain to him how you shift," Jared insisted. 

Chris scrunched his face as he thought. The dragon had made it to its feet again, keeping its head low and wings tightly furled, and was taking small baby steps with each leg, staring at the leg it wanted to move, willing its body to obey. 

It was Aldis who answered. "It's not something that you explain. You just do it." 

"Yeah? Try." Jared narrowed his gaze and Aldis seemed nonplussed. 

"Alright, I think I can break it down," Chris said. He still stared at Jensen. "I just hope he can understand me." 

Chris walked slowly, talking softly the whole time as if he were afraid Jensen would spook. The dragon looked decidedly unimpressed with this approach. When Chris was close enough, he dropped his voice even further, talking barely above a whisper, probably in an attempt to ensure Jensen stayed calm. As a result Jared couldn't hear what Chris said. 

"Jared," Aldis said, "The dragon locator thing, is it taken care of?" 

"Fuck! Jensen was hurt and I—" 

"Well," Aldis said, "if the dragon gets here and cooks us, it won't help Jensen. And you’d better hurry." 

Jared snapped his mouth shut and looked over at Jensen to check his aura. It blazed, white and blinding. The use of his othersight, following the depletion of his energy during Jensen's healing, triggered a massive, vice-like headache. He wrinkled his forehead as he ignored the pain and connected their auras, braiding his energy to Jensen's to create a loop. In theory, it should be enough of a change to disorient the draconic GPS. 

Finished, Jared stood up; vertigo sent him crashing to the couch and his stomach gave a lurch. Aldis helped him to sit and they both watched their two friends on the other side of the room. 

Jared saw the dragon's posture sag a couple times and suspected that those were the unsuccessful attempts. A half-hour went by before it happened. Suddenly the dragon was gone, replaced by a naked Jensen. Chris clapped him on the shoulder, and Jensen simply collapsed on the closest chair that hadn't been broken by the dragon's clumsy movements. 

"Jared! A word, please." Jensen's voice carried well. Jared bit his lip as Aldis helped him over to Jensen. The world was a bit wavy, and Jared had a hard time focusing. 

"How the hell did you do that?" Jensen said. When Jared shrugged, he continued. "You're going to be a superstar to my family, man. Must be a special ability . . ." 

Jared shrugged again. "I don't know. Didn't do anything special. Did any wizard ever try?" 

Jensen blinked. "There were healers. . ." 

But Jared shook his head. "Healers and wizards do things different. Healers fix stuff that's wrong. I don't—okay, I'm _so_ not an expert—but I didn't fix you: I mean, you weren't broken—well, other than the injuries. Thing is, I didn't force your body to do anything; I just gave you an energy boost." 

"I don't see the difference," Chris said. 

"Healers can change things on a micro scale. It's precision. Wizards . . . throw energy around. It's a completely different approach. It's bigger, but more messy. You needed energy, not fine-tuning." 

Chris chortled. "Hear that Jen. Jared thinks you're perfect, just a bit lazy." 

Jensen went on for a while about how much his father would love to meet Jared, and something about saving their line and traditions, and a bunch of other stuff. But Jared couldn't focus. Talking hurt, so he didn't. His head spun, and though he tried to smile at Jensen's enthusiasm and excitement, he mostly just tried not to hurl on his friend. It was a close thing. Aldis stepped up and whispered something to Chris, who studied Jared a moment and then said something to Jensen. Their mouths were moving, but Jared no longer heard their conversation. 

"Chris, did you know?" Aldis' voice was suddenly close, very close, and Jared realized that he was being walked down the hallway, supported by Chris and Aldis. 

"No. Just found out, a few days ago. And Aldis," Chris said from his other side, "this stays quiet." 

"Yeah, okay." 

"Here, he's slipping. Get your arm under him. Yeah, like that." 

"Big motherfucker," Aldis said. 

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure Jensen's claimed him." All was silent for a minute. 

"Damn," Aldis said after a moment. "Better hope he's okay then. Don't feel like living in a flattened city." 

Someone let him down gently on his bed. He had an itch on the side of his nose but it was simply too much trouble to do anything about, and he allowed himself to rest. 

* * *

Jared woke up after a couple hours, and though he was still tired he wasn't sleepy, so he dragged himself out of bed and into the living room. The others had tried to clean up the place, judging by the mound of broken furniture that was piled in the far corner. The ceiling light still dangled and there were a handful of significant dents in one of the walls from Jensen's attempts at movement. Jared heard voices coming from outside, and walked through the open French doors onto the impressive balcony. The light pollution in the city drowned out most of the stars, but he could still spot a few constellations. He frowned when he saw no one else there. 

"There! Two o'clock. See him?" A disembodied voice came out of the night, and Jared looked up. He climbed the stepladder to the roof where he found Chris and Aldis watching the sky. 

"What are you doing?" Jared asked. 

"Check it," Aldis told him. "Jensen's flying! We've been busy while you caught up on your beauty sleep," he continued in response to Jared's incredulous expression. 

Chris laughed. "Be happy 'bout that. Stupid idiot just stepped off the building." 

"Hey now, he practiced flapping on the roof," Aldis said, and continued in a loud whisper. "Chris damn near had a heart attack." 

Jared was still looking up, straining to see Jensen, when a buffeting of wind from behind made him spin around. He was face-to-chest with a dark, scaled body that appeared black in the night. The sinuous neck bent down until Jared was staring into Jensen's large green eye. The dragon moved his head up and down, as if inspecting Jared. When he was satisfied, the dragon let out a little huff. The puff of air sent Jared's hair into his eyes and Jared closed them. In the short time it took for him to brush the hair off his face, Jensen had shifted and now stood naked before him. Jared couldn't help the wandering of his gaze, and Jensen's cocks seemed to take notice. Jensen smirked, lifted his hands, and gave a little wiggle that let his hardening cocks bob and wave. 

"Aw man, I don't want to see that!" Aldis said, and Jensen's grin widened. 

"You're in a good mood," Jared said, though it was certainly an understatement. Jensen looked giddy. 

"Did you see me? I was fucking flying! It's awesome!" His happiness faded in the face of Jared's half-hearted smile. "What's wrong?" 

"No, Jen. I mean, yeah, it's awesome, but what about the other dragon? I mean, I tried to camouflage you, but she knows where you live. Is it a good idea to be playing out in the open like this?" 

"No. It's really not." The voice did not belong to the people on the roof. 

Jared searched the neighboring shadows until he spotted her leaning against the rooftop access of the building next door. She stepped forward and easily jumped across to their roof. Jared's eyes widened; he didn't know anyone who could have made that distance. 

Chris raised his lip in a snarl and re-adjusted his weight as he prepared to shift, with Aldis at his side. 

"Mine." Jensen's sharp reminder fired out in the nighttime silence and stopped their actions. Alaina looked at the werewolves and grimaced as if she'd eaten something particularly distasteful. 

Alaina rolled her eyes. "Baby dragon, baby wizard, and a couple mutts: ain't it sweet," she said. She studied Jensen, who had moved to place himself between his friends and her. 

Jared began to ready himself, but the power he gathered came at a trickle instead of the usual flow, and his headache reasserted itself. Both werewolves sensed his attempt, and had turned towards him as soon as he'd opened himself to the magical energies, and he looked at them in alarm. He would be all but useless in this fight. 

"Pretty." Alaina gave a small nod of approval at Jensen's naked body, as if her own lack of clothes was completely irrelevant. "Maybe I won't have to kill you just yet. You haven't mated, have you, Jensen?" 

"Get out of my city!" Jensen said, but the last word became garbled as Jensen was unable to control the shift and his transformation into a dragon robbed him of speech. 

Alaina clapped with a happy smile. "Oh, yay," she said, and her face lost all trace of mirth. "Playtime." In a blink there were two dragons on the rooftop and Jared backed away as far as he could. He was immediately joined by Chris and Aldis. 

The dragons hissed and postured, but otherwise their display was silent. Out of nowhere, Alaina lashed out with her tail, catching Jensen on the side of the head with the same move she had used in the warehouse. Jensen fell to the ground and lost his dragon form. 

"Why my city?" Jensen said and wiped blood away from a cut on his lip. "What did I ever do to you?" 

The red dragon stopped, tilted her head, and transformed as well. Alaina looked down on Jensen as he slowly stood up and she shook her head in mock-sadness. 

"So insufferable. You are a direct descendant of the most powerful dragon in our history, and look at you. A dragon, hanging around with werewolves. _Acting_ as a career. It's gross. And degrading. Just getting wings, at your age: you should be embarrassed! Forbidding youth to seek the change; you're keeping us weak! Your father needs a reminder about why we ruled the skies for so long. Cowards, both of you." 

"This is about politics?" 

"No! This is about one person meddling with the survival of a fuckin' species! So, now he can see exactly what his policies have cost, on a personal level." 

"You were killing kids! There was no choice! You put kids in life-threatening situations, and the ones that survived were the ones who managed to turn. Your success rate was what? One in fifteen? It was mass murder! He wasn't the only one who called for a tribunal." 

"No. But he organized it and argued the case. Stood before them and whined that the world is unfair! Boo hoo. He's destroying the dragons, just when we're about to make a comeback. Those posers masquerading as dragons deserved what they got." 

"What?" 

"Oh my god, what is it with the Ackles blood? Is it a genetic thing, the blindness, this naive act? Dragons turn, it's in the blood. The ones who died when we tried to awaken the dragon, they were changelings, fakes planted in our midst to destroy us." 

"You're insane! Who the hell do you think is trying to kill us off?" 

"Not even you can be that dim." She turned to Chris and Aldis. "They are." 

"Werewolves?" 

"Enough of this," Alaina said. The glow of her eyes gave Jared enough warning. He closed his eyes as Alaina let the change take her and took a deep breath to steady himself. When he opened his eyes, both Jensen and Alaina shone in his othersight. Jared was prepared this time for the brightness. 

The brief silence that followed was broken by snarls as Aldis and Chris transformed and attacked. They swerved under the red tail to tear at the thinner skin neat the joints and underbelly. The dragon spun and let loose a jet of fire that singed the ends of the wolves' fur but otherwise missed. Hissing, she whirled and twisted to get at the wolves that worried at her. Though lacking strong scales, the hide on the dragon's underside was still thick, but the wolves’ repeated attacks left a succession of small, bleeding cuts. With a surprising twist of her body, she tossed off both wolves and Jared heard a scramble of claws as they sought purchase on the rooftop. Aldis shifted into human form as he approached the edge and he grabbed at the gutter, barely preventing his fall. 

Jared now knew how quickly the dragon could move, and readied himself. With dizzying speed, she bridged the distance between herself and Jensen. In a sinuous, graceful motion, beautiful in its horror, the dragon seized Jensen in its powerful jaws and threw its head to the side in a vicious motion, intending to snap his spine. Before the red dragon had completed its motion, Jared released the energy he had drawn. It would not be enough to stop or even to hurt Alaina, but it should be enough for Jensen's body to repair the break even as it happened. 

But Jared had forgotten their tied auras. 

The short circuit, created when Jared's power made contact with the bits of Jared's aura that he had woven around Jensen , made the air crack with energy. It zapped the red dragon where its teeth had punctured Jensen, and Alaina released him in surprise. Any damage to Jensen that Alaina's attack had caused Jensen healed in the fraction of a second the current flowed through him. 

As his own power looped back, it hit Jared like a lightning bolt and he was thrown backwards. Chris placed himself in Jared's way, and crashing into the werewolf was the only thing that prevented Jared from tumbling over the edge of the building. 

Jared held onto consciousness by the barest margin, but was unable to move, and his breathing was so shallow that he knew he didn't have long before he would pass out. 

Not only did Jensen not die, but he transformed and returned the attack. 

* * *

"Jared? Shit, again. Aldis, give me a hand." 

Hands grabbed at him and soon he was held seated in the circle of Chris's arms. Jared blinked. 

"Jensen?" he asked. 

"Barreled right into that dragon; took her over the edge," Aldis said, as he crouched down. 

Aldis pointed to two shapes in the distance. Only the orangish glow of the city lights let them be seen at all, but the dragons blazed in his othersight. Engaged in battle, both dragons clawed, bit, and whipped their tails at the other. They frequently entangled and plummeted, tearing at each other all the while, before breaking apart and circling back. In their dragon shapes their auras were uniformly bright and shining, so Jared had no idea who was winning. 

Their battle was now directly overhead. They fell again, but this time they didn’t stop and Jared cried out as a large shape of entangled black and red plummeted past them, barely missing the corner of the building. The crash into the pavement below threw up a cloud of debris that quickly settled. 

Jared couldn't speak as Aldis helped him over to the edge, where Chris was already staring down, horrified. It was becoming difficult to get enough air. 

Jensen, with his wings folded, stood atop the red dragon's body, which had been impaled on a stop sign in the fall. She moved feebly. Jensen looked up, and lizard eyes blinked from his reptilian face. Jared's found it harder and harder to catch his breath, and darkness danced in his periphery. 

"No, Jen!" Chris called out. Jared didn't understand Chris's concern until Jensen calmly bent down, ripped out his rival's throat, and swallowed it. As the bright glow of the dragon aura faded from Jared's othersight, the grey dragon was left standing over the bloody remains of a naked young woman. It gathered Alaina's body in its claws, and then spread its wings to lift itself and its meal into the sky. 

Jared hit his head on the edge of the roof as he passed out. 

* * *

Jared slept for almost two days. He vaguely recalled someone waking him up to shine light in his eyes and feed him . . . soup? Water? But it was all pretty hazy. Pretty green eyes. Warmth and soft things. He didn't really have any desire to wake and rejoin the violence of his life. He floated in a dreamlike state for a while, an almost-sleep where he was vaguely aware of his surroundings but they blended together in a strange stream of consciousness. 

Eventually the voices and movements around him became clearer, louder, and pulled him towards consciousness, then they became fainter and more distant.. He opened his eyes to see his door halfway closed.. Blinking his eyes against the light, he looked around to find himself in Jensen's room, alone. He heard Chris and Jensen talking in the hallway just behind the door. 

"He's still asleep," 

"Relax, Jen, the family doc said that he's fine, so he's fine. Saving you tired him out, is all. You should relax a bit. Yesterday you were dead, or close enough. You know that, right?" 

"Yeah. . . Chris, he triggered the dragon. Fuck, even after everything, I can't wrap my head around it. And now that I can turn . . . this feeling, the power! It's the most amazing thing and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But I love acting. Seriously, it's my calling and there's nothing I'd rather do as a career, but now . . . I don't know if I'm going to be able to avoid my family and their crap. Did you know I'm the oldest child of an oldest child, going back generations? Some of folks get superstitious about stuff like that." 

As he listened, Jared sat up, and stood on shaky legs, using the side of the bed to steady himself. He saw an empty glass on Jensen's desk, and wished that conjuring could be real and not just another story. He could really use a glass of water. 

"I don't know about that, but Jen, you can't . . . you can't go back to work. If you shift . . . it's not just a stray dog that people will see, it's a fucking mythical creature. What are you going to do?" 

A long pause and then, "Go home. I have to go talk to my father." 

"You don't get along with your father. What was it you said? Can't have two adult dragons in the same territory without a mating bond. That's what you said, right?" 

Jensen sighed. "I need to talk to him. I've been calling but he doesn't answer. He needs to know about Alaina, about what his all-encompassing crusade almost cost his family." 

"Okay, I don't mean to be insensitive, but will he care?" 

"I will make him care. I mean, Jared can trigger the dragon. He can cure us. My father can't _not_ care." 

"Jen, I think I'm going to head back home with Aldis when he goes. I don't know exactly how to say this but . . . be careful. There may have been a reason dragons faded out of history. You're . . . different." 

It was quiet for a moment, and then Jared heard the heavy tread of Chris's boots. 

"Chris? Where are you going," Jensen asked. 

"For a walk. It's . . . I've got a lot to think about. Just need a bit of air." 

Jared heard the main door open. 

"Yeah, of course," Jensen said, "but first, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. Something Alaina said." Jensen paused, but Chris didn't say anything, so he continued. "That stuff about the werewolves sabotaging dragons . . ." 

Chris sighed. "Wondered when you'd bring that up. I've never been involved in anything like that, I swear. And the stuff she said, about changelings or whatever, that's complete crap." 

"Okay . . . good." 

Jared hadn't heard that level up awkwardness between Chris and Jensen before. He opened his mouth to call out to them, and let them know he was awake, but tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Dammit, he needed that glass of water. When he opened the door and stepped out in the hallway, they had moved to the elevator. 

"So," Chris said, changing the subject, "you and Jared. Does that mean you found a mate?" 

When Jensen spoke again, the hardness had gone, replaced by confusion. "Mate? No. I don't know. Dragons matings are . . . complicated." He sighed. "I'm sorry. Me and you . . . it's just . . . I need this thing with Jared to be _mine_. I don't think I _can_ share. I don't know . . ." He trailed off, obviously unable to accurately put into words what he wanted to say. Jared resolved to talk to Jensen about this. Overhearing things said to Chris was not the ideal way to learn about his own relationship. Until now, there hadn't been enough time. 

"So he's what, then? Boyfriend? Like in high school? Going to hold hands?" 

"Fuck off, Chris," Jensen said, and Jared knew the friendly teasing had drawn a smile. "I don't know. Jared and I . . . it's serious, I think." 

"Yeah? Are you going to bring him home to meet the family?" Chris said, and Jared could hear the smile in his voice. "Oh, shit! You are!" 

"If he wants to," Jensen said, soft enough that Jared could barely hear it. The claps of backslapping faded as Jared walked, with a steadying hand on the wall, into the kitchen to get his glass of water. 

"Jared? You okay?" Jensen asked, a couple minutes later. 

Jared put down his glass to smile at Jensen's worried face. "Feeling fine. Hungry though." 

"Yeah? I was going to make myself a BLT. Should I make it two?" 

Jared nodded, and as he walked by, Jensen leaned in. Jensen's kiss was soft and careful, and no one had ever before kissed Jared like that. 

* * *

"So, really . . . no treasure tucked away somewhere? What kind of dragon are you?" Teasing Jensen when he was sleepy was no fun, and Jared didn't expect much of an answer. Sex tended to wake Jared up, while it made Jensen sleepy. Jensen just gave him a heavy lidded smile, and let out a breath of air as he leaned back into his pillow, claiming most of the bed in his sprawl. 

Jared watched as Jensen settled into a deeper sleep, and a fond, contented smile played at the corner of his lips. Then his eyes widened to see that Jensen's exhaled breath now came with a trace of smoke. That was new. As a precaution, Jared threw off his covers and went into the kitchen to get Jensen a glass of water, and to bring a pitcher of water to set on the nightstand. Just in case. If he was thirsty. And on the way back to their bed Jared took a small detour to double-check that Jensen's floor had working fire alarms.

* * *

##### End

* * *

Edit: Please note that there is a bonus deleted scene posted on my LJ: http://walking-tornado.livejournal.com/19392.html

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my artist, riverofwind. Your artwork is breathtaking, and I'm so thrilled you picked my story to illustrate! Thank you so much. Check out the artwork [here](http://riverofwind.livejournal.com/3755.html).
> 
> Many thanks to my exceptional betas, matchboximpala and crazykazykim, for all the useful feedback, for flagging my plot issues and continuity errors, and for catching the half-deleted sentences. All mistakes are mine—and wouldn't be there if I had stopped rewriting scenes once my betas fixed them. 
> 
> Thank you to dutch_chick674, my alpha reader, for the encouragement and for her comments on the very first (i.e. unedited and incoherent) draft. Thanks to dahlia94 for her comments and to soserendipity for critiquing the summary.
> 
> Thank you to paleogymnast and the omgspnbigbangers, who were instrumental in motivating me to finish the rough draft on time, and thank you to wendy, for her heroic efforts in organizing this challenge.
> 
> Written for the 2014 spn_j2_bigbang.


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